Spy & Sniper's Road Trip (And Other TF2 Stories)
by Bardock Lives
Summary: What do the RED mercenaries do when they're not blasting BLUs? How do they spend their time on days where they're not fighting for Redmond Mann? Well, this is the answer. Rated T for language and possibly gore. Warning: There are bad attempts at accents. Read at your own risk. Currently on hiatus until further notice.
1. Spy and Sniper's Road Trip

Spy And Sniper's Road Trip

Sniper let out a pained grumble as he withdrew his mangled hand. "I kin droive just fine, you bloody spook," he snapped to the mercenary beside him, holding his injured arm up to his chest. His companion, Spy, gave a doubtful snort. The duo carefully trotted down the cliffside from the small warehouse haphazardly built onto the mesa. It was a Sunday- a day off work. And rather than stay with their annoying or dimwited teammates, the Australian and the Frenchman had ambushed a ring of smugglers at the Medic's request. He asked them to harvest Mega Baboon hearts, human livers, and human lungs, and in exchange promised to give them a free pass on his next few physical examinations. The Spy was carrying a tub of organs along with him, looking down at them disdainfully. Sniper carried nothing- he was too wounded to do so.

"You _cannot_," Spy pointed out. "Unless you're planning to kill us both?" He flicked aside his cigarette and trod across the sun-baked earth, gazing coolly into the tall Australian's sunglasses. "You're not expecting to drive us on _zis _terrain with only one arm?"

"If I don't trust you in me van, how'm I supposed to trust ya to droive it?" Sniper barked, grudgingly getting in the passenger seat. "Bloody spoy, ya don't' even have a liscense…" He grumbled, folding his good arm across his chest. Spy entered the back of the van and deposited the tub of organs into a small mini-fridge before pacing back around to the left side of the car. Spy climbed into the driver's seat.

"Buckle up, Bushman," Spy grinned mockingly, reaching to withdraw another cigarette from his coat pocket.

"Don't even think about smokin' that in moy van!" Sniper barked. "Oy may not be droivin', but moy rules still apploy!"Spy gave a grumble and tucked the cigarette back into his suit.

"Very well," Spy said grudgingly. "And try to stop bleeding on ze interior of ze van- I have to drive with you again next week, and believe it or not I do not like ze smell of blood."

"Oy don't mine, you prissy Shiela." Sniper grumbled back, wincing as he adjusted his position. "Oy'm not used to real injures," He whined to no one in particular, buckling his seatbelt. "Either oy don't get in any trouble or Oy'm backstabbed. Quick and painless, none of this rubbish. Oy hope Doc can fix this up quickly."

"Ze mad docteur has revived us from wounds much more dire zan zat." Spy muttered, starting the van. "You remembered to harvest ze _correct _organs for our psychotic medic, correct?"

"Roight. Got no idea what he wants a pair 'a livers for, but I got 'em." Sniper gave a brief nod, gesturing to the small fridge in the back of the truck.

"I'm assuming it's for ze Demoman." Spy responded, holding out a gloved hand for the keys, which Sniper reluctantly produced. "He's insisted on replacing my lungs many times, as well as zat Scottish drunk's liver."

"What about that gioant monkey? It almost took my bloody arm off; it's got to be for something good." Sniper asked as Spy started the van and began the hour long drive back to the base.

"Ze Heavy." Spy said dismissively, glancing out the window at the reddish canyon to their right. Sniper grunted. "We're makin'a lot of money from killin' those smugglers." The marksman yawned.

"Ze money is well and fine," Spy agreed. "But there is some satisfaction in killing people who zink zey are invincible. It is very, very satisfying to stab one in ze back and watch ze rest try to find who did it." There was a long pause, before Sniper gave a little cough.

"Gotta tell you somethin', mate. Oy stole one 'a the animals they were smugglin'." Sniper confessed. "Is that going to be a problem?""

"Only if it wasn't a bird," Spy grumbled. "I will not stand zem."

"Eh- I think it's a chameleon." Sniper offered. "Some kinda rare breed or somethin'." He delicately held out the bright green lizard with his good arm. Reminded me 'a you; cold-blooded, can change colors, and is a total wanker."

Spy gave a little grunt. "I'm busy driving your excuse for a car- do not make me murder you and the lizard." He paused for a moment, and then added, "You're actually going to keep zat?"

"Well, unless 'e boytes or somethin', yeah." Not a minute after, he let out a little gasp of agony as the creature crawled onto his bloody, damaged arm. He squirmed and tried to take it off him, but only succeeded in injuring himself further. "S-Spoy?" He started, voice trembling with pain, "Get 'im away from my arm, this hurts like hell!"

Spy gave a long sigh and stopped the car- as there was no road to pull off of. He turned to Sniper, clearly struggling not to belittle him- but he just couldn't resist as soon as his gaze came to Sniper's face. "_Mon Dieu, _are- are you crying?" A grin spread across his face and he had to struggle not to snicker in the marksman's face.

"It hurts!" Sniper defended. "If I was Scout I'd be screamin' loike a girl- now hurry up an' get this bugger off!"

"You kill men on a daily basis and you can't stand a _lizard _on your arm?" Spy chortled.

"Spy, if you tell anyone back at the base oy'm gonna throw you over the cliff." Sniper threatened, wincing. The Australian's face was growing redder with each word- and Spy didn't doubt he'd uphold his promise. He lightly unhooked the chameleon's claws from Sniper's wounded arm and set the scaly creature in the back of the van.

Sniper gave a grunt of relief and Spy set his foot gingerly on the accelerator.

. . .

"Bushman! Sniper!" A French voice barked. Sniper's eyes snapped open and he jolted forward in his seat.

"Huh? Wot?" He shook his head, blinking. "Oy fell asleep?" He asked.

"Yes. You mumble in your sleep- somezing about boxing a kangaroo and becoming king." Spy responded, not looking away from the road. "It was getting irritating."

"Where are we?" Sniper grumbled, rubbing his eyes. He'd examined the road ahead and couldn't recognize anything; although they were on a real, asphalt road now.

"Well. Ah. I was hoping you would know." Spy muttered awkwardly.

"Y'mean we're lost? See, this is woiy I don't let you droive!" Sniper said incredulously, stamping his foot. "How's the chameleon?"

Spy's face briefly flickered in surprise, as though it was the last thing he'd ever thought Sniper would say. "I haven't checked. I was listening to you ramble and trying to drive ze van."

"Haven't done a very good job so far," Sniper muttered, swiveling his head to see the back portion of his van. He was relieved to find the thing curled up by a half-full jar of jarate, on the opposite side of the mini-fridge housing the Medic's new organs. He slumped back in his seat. "We're running low on gas." He observed.

"I've been driving zis damned zing for over an hour." Spy snapped. "If zere was a gas station nearby I would have known by now."

"Well- we should just keep droivin', then." Sniper muttered. They were quiet for a long while, until a sign proclaimed they were five miles away from the nearest gas station.

"Zank ze lord." Spy murmured, pressing his foot harder against the accelerator. They sped off and stopped twenty or so feet from the station.

"Er- Spoy, you have any money on ya?" Sniper asked hesitantly.

He shook his head silently, mentally preparing himself for what he would have to do. He silently slipped out of the van. He cloaked- but if Sniper concentrated hard, however, he could see a very faint reddish outline, only visible to the other eight mercenaries on RED.

"Zis will be ze lowest class place I have ever robbed," Spy grumbled under his breath, then to Sniper: "If you don't tell anyone about zis I won't tell anyone about you crying." Sniper gave a curt nod, not wanting to be reminded, and Spy snuck off.

. . .

Spy gave a little snort, checking his watch. He slipped into the small convenience store beside the gas station, hardly bothering to keep quiet. He was just so damn _tired _of today. He withdrew his revolver, taking precise aim at the man behind the cash register, and decloaked, firing a single shot at the man's head. The man crumpled like a sack of potatoes. Spy swiped several bills from the register and a map before stalking out. Sniper was waiting impatiently. Spy tossed the money at Sniper and studied the map.

_"Merde."_ Spy hissed, re-checking the map to make sure he had it right. "It's going to take us hours to get back," He moaned.

Sniper swore and stopped filling the van with gas. "What? It's nearly sunset now, Spy, you musta been droivin' in exactly the opposite direction!

"Almost." Spy said uncomfortably, folding the map and placing it in his jacket.

"Jesus, Spoy, we've got _work _tomorrow!" Sniper moaned. "There is no way oy'm going to kill anyone if I'm up until three in the bloody morning!"

"It's only going to take until midnight!" Spy protested feebly, hating that he made a mistake. "And I'm going to be ze one driving- you can sleep in ze back with your reptile."

"Oy've gotta make sure you don't accidentally drive us to France," Sniper growled back. "And ya better have a smoke now, 'cause oy'm not lettin' ya do it later."

"Fine, fine. Finish filling up ze car and I'll go see if I can find some bandages in zis dump." He waved his hand flippantly and entered the store. With some searching he found some gauze and departed, fighting the impulse to burn down the convenience store. He carefully dressed Sniper's wound, not daring to try anything else. The only ones at the base who knew anything about medicine was the Medic, and the Soldier had just the barest training on how to dig out a bullet or stitch up a wound. "Zis is going to need Medic's help," He observed. He wove the gauze carefully around Sniper's forearm and palm, before giving a little tug on it.

Sniper gave a yelp of pain and jerked his hand away, growling profanities. "That hurts, you backstabbing wanker!" He shouted, struggling away from Spy's grip.

"Lovely." Spy said dryly. "If you're done screaming, we have a place to go." He took a long drag on his cigarette, then flicked it aside. Sniper grudgingly got in the car, cradling the chameleon in his lap. Spy flicked on the van's headlights, examined the map, and set off down the road.

. . .

Moonlight glinted off the van, the only light in the area (besides the van's headlights) for miles. Sniper was asleep, mumbling something tiredly. Spy gave an annoyed grunt, his gaze flicking to the Australian for a few seconds. He shoved Sniper's shoulder hard. Sniper's eyes flickered open. "Huh? Are we there?" He asked, blinking and looking around before yawning widely.

"Not even close. Over an hour and a half, I estimate." Spy said. "I woke you up because you were talking _again, _and it was getting on my nerves." He gave a tired little grunt. "Do you zink zey're looking for us? We've been out for four hours past our usual arrival time."

"Oy doubt it. Most likely Soldier's standin' guard an' everyone else 's gone to sleep. Maybe not Medic, he stays up late doin' God knows what in the infirmary." Sniper responded sleepily, setting the chameleon on his left shoulder. "If we were gone 'til morning, then they moight worry."

"Glad to know we're so important to zem." Spy said wryly, pressing his foot harder against the accelerator. Sniper's head lolled and soon he was asleep again; the chameleon stared at the slumbering Australian and the irritated Frenchman at the same time.

It was a peaceful ride for the next thirty minutes. Spy had ignored Sniper's wishes and had lit a cigarette, and actually was starting to enjoy himself. Until he thought he heard…

There were sirens in the distance. Spy gave a little hiss of annoyance as the police drew closer, loud enough to wake Sniper. "Spy- what in the name of Saxton Hale-?" He sputtered.

Spy grunted. "Police are after us. Probably because we killed those animal smugglers, stole their organs, and let out their animals to feed on their corpses. Or maybe it was the Mega Baboon slaying and stealing a rare chameleon. I suggest you take ze wheel while I sneak behind zem and stab zem when zey pull you over."

Sniper swore. "Spoy, next Sunday, we're staying at the base."

"Oh, you know you love killing zings with me." Spy flashed a grin and cloaked. Spy pulled over, unbuckled his seatbelt, scrambled over Sniper, threw the door open, went through, and shut it, all before the car came to a complete halt. Sniper shuffled over awkwardly to the driver's seat and set the chameleon in the back. He tucked his hat over his head and felt a nervous fluttering in his chest. He cleared his throat and wished he'd brought a weapon with him.

The officer who came to the car door didn't even get to say anything before Spy stabbed him in the back and kicked aside his body. The other officers gave startled shouts, drawing their guns and firing in their fallen commander's direction. Spy gave a chuckle, and cloaked before they drew. He moved with the agility of a cat, swiftly taking cover behind Sniper's van.

Spy circled around the tense policemen, whispered "Peek-a-boo" and stabbed one hard through the neck. He jerked back quickly, before any blood could spatter his suit, and kicked the freshly dead man into the third cop. He withdrew his revolver and shot the remaining policeman in the head.

"No, I do not zink zey were after us because of ze murders." Spy muttered to himself. "Speeding, maybe, but zey would have sent more if it was anything else." He withdrew a silver lighter and set one of the policeman's clothes aflame. "Alright," Spy called in a bored tone. "We can go." Sniper performed his awkward shuffle back to the shotgun seat and Spy sat down heavily in the driver's. The van roared to life and they moved on.

The desert landscape was blending into a muted, twisted silvery gray. Both mercenaries noticed the cold beginning to creep in after several more minutes of silent driving. Sniper began to shiver, unaccustomed to the cold. He couldn't get the spare blankets in the back due to his seatbelt. He did, however, grab the chameleon, even if it was cold-blooded. He kept the small reptile warm with his own body heat.

"Doesn't zis damn car of yours have a heater?" Spy hissed to Sniper, beginning to feel the cold.

"It broke a long time ago, mate," Sniper mumbled back. "Usually I use them blankets in the back whenever oy'm droivin' in the cold or sleepin' in here." He shook his head slightly, as though trying to keep awake.

"If we freeze, it's your fault," Spy grumbled.

"This is a bloody desert," Sniper complained, shivering. "Why's it so bloody cold? Oy think moy wound 'as frozen shut."

"Quit complaining," Spy ordered. "You're starting to sound like Scout. As soon as we get zere, you can zrow yourself into ze sun for all I care."

"Oy would, but I can't foind the damned thing," Sniper griped. The marksman tucked the frozen reptile closer to his body, and shifted his body slightly. He winced as his arms touched the cold seat. The lizard squirmed a little in protest to being moved, so at least it was alive. Spy passed the map to Sniper. "How far are we from ze base?" He asked, keeping his eyes firmly on the road.

"Oy dunno- it's dark; prolly thirty or forty miles." Sniper responded. "We should be back in half an hour, by our current speed."

"Zat's fine. I recognize where we are now." Spy's voice lost a small amount of tension. There was a few more minutes pause, and Sniper broke the silence. He held up the chameleon, peering at it.

"Does this thing look dead to you?" He asked, poking it lightly. "It's cold and it's not movin'."

"I couldn't give _less _of a damn." Spy responded coolly.

"Aw, dammit, I was startin' t' like him, too." Sniper said, voice full of disappointment. He set the possibly dead creature into his lap, scowling at it. "Well, if he is dead, oy think oy'll eat him. But if he's not, oy'll keep him." He decided. "Hey, Spoy, do you know what a chameleon eats by any chance? Oy mean, oy can't have him starvin' if he's really alive."

"Once again, I couldn't give less of a damn," Spy drawled, before swerving the car sharply to avoid a boulder in the middle of the road. "Ask Medic. Or Engineer. Zey both have pets."

"Goddammit, Spoy, Pyro is a _person._" The Australian scowled fiercely. "Both you and Scout are bloody awful to him."

"Scout is afraid," Spy corrected curtly. "I am disgusted. He acts like a mentally defective puppy more zan half ze time."

"He does 'is job," Sniper said uncomfortably, not wanting to defend Pyro but feeling the need to. The chameleon suddenly dug in its claws and Sniper yelped in pain and surprise. "Ah! He's alive!" He paused for a moment, pulling the chameleon away and grinned.

"What is zat idiotic look about?" Spy snapped, Sniper's strange grin not going unnoticed.

"He's got the Dead Ringer, he has. Isn't that what you call the watch that fakes your death?" When Spy gave a curt nod, Sniper continued, still grinning. "In honor of that, oy'm going to call 'im Spook." Sniper grinned wider, and when Spy let out a noisy sigh Sniper began laughing wheezily.

_"Stop!"_ Spy shouted a few minutes later, getting the impulse to slam his co-worker's head against the windshield. Sniper didn't stop until Spy slammed on the breaks. "We're here!" He snapped forcefully. He opened his door and a blast of freezing air met him. Spy gave a violent shudder and shut it quickly. Sniper unbuckled his seatbelt and dug around in the back of the car for a second. He put on a heavy coat and tucked Spook into his pocket. He tossed a scarf at Spy, who gave a sarcastic "Thanks" and put it on, as stylish as ever.

"Thank Chroist we're finally here." Sniper muttered, stepping out and letting out a grunt as cold air assaulted him. "Let's move."

As soon as he took a single step forward, a giant arm almost as thick around as his torso grabbed him. The air was forced from his lungs and he tried to wheeze a warning to Spy.

"Sniper is back!" A familiar Russian voice howled. In response, a very, very faint yell came from somewhere far away.

"H-Heavy?" Sniper stammered as soon as he got his breath back. The giant man released him and he gulped for air. Spy watched cautiously, head tilted, as though afraid the Russian would try to hug him as well. A figure sprinted towards them, and soon enough they realized it was none other than Medic. The German stopped in front of them, grinning. "Ah, you're boz alive, zat's vunderful! You got ze organs I vanted, right?" He glanced at the Spy, then Sniper's wounded arm and blinked. "'Ave you had zat all day?" He looked back at the disheveled, weary mercs. "Vat exactly happened to you two? It's one in ze morning, you vere supposed to be back _hours_ ago."

Sniper shot Spy a glance.

"It's a long story, Docteur." Spy offered. "Right now, we need food, warmth, and Sniper's arm to be healed." Sniper sniffed, gingerly tightening his grasp on Spook.

"Spook needs to get warm too, wanker," His words were met with confused stares from Heavy and Medic.

"Spook's his chameleon. He stole it when we killed ze smugglers." Spy explained. "Heavy, help us carry ze fridge inside." Medic gave an excited squeak and raced into the van to see his new prizes. Heavy lumbered after him, giving a mumbled "Be careful, Doktor."

Spy and Sniper exchanged a glance, then headed swiftly for the base's doors. "Chroist," Sniper breathed, warmth flooding over him. "You go cook somethin', and oy'll get Doc to patch me up." He wandered towards the infirmary, mumbling something under his breath. Spy shrugged and headed towards the kitchen. The Engineer sat, facing away from Spy, and was strumming a quiet, soulful song. Pyro listened dreamily, sitting with his legs crossed and his face held up with his hands- rather like a child sits.

Pyro's head tilted slightly, staring at Spy blankly. Engineer noticed and followed his gaze to Spy. The Engineer set his guitar on the table, stood up, and walked casually over to Spy. He tilted his head up slightly and slapped Spy across the face, hard.

Spy gave a startled grunt of pain, instinctively putting his hand over the injury.

"What in Sam Hill were you thinkin?" Engineer demanded. "We were _worried, _you backstabbin' snake!" His face was pale and his jaw was clenched in fury.

"I've killed twenty men and a giant primate today." Spy responded coolly, but his voice was getting angrier with each word. "And if zat wazzn't enough, I had to drive around with Snipeur for _eight hours._ I'm tired, I'm hungry, and all I want is to go to bed." He readied himself for cooking, but his brain and body both felt numb. He couldn't call any recipes up but the simplest, and he knew he couldn't prepare them even if he wanted to. He gave up after a while, and Pyro rose with a little mumble, pushing Spy gently to the table. "Hhh hhh." He instructed.

" 'Sit down,'" The Engineer translated, picking up his guitar again and strumming a chord. "He's gonna cook for ya." Spy was too tired to argue. He sat down and allowed Pyro to get to work.

Meanwhile, Sniper was yowling in pain as Medic attempted to treat his wounds. He was sitting still at a table on an uncomfortable metal chair, holding out his wounded arm for the team's doctor to examine and treat. Medic had announced when he sat the Sniper down that he was going to attempt to do it _without his medigun_, as he thought he was losing his skill with natural surgery. The Medic was quietly humming a tune that sounded suspiciously like a funeral march. He dabbed at the wounds with a clean white cloth covered in water to wash away the blood.

"Vell, from vat I can tell, it broke ze radius and punctured vith it's top fangs." The Medic revealed after a brief cleaning. He dabbed at the deep wounds with an alcohol-soaked cloth, making the Sniper scream in pain and jerk his arm back. Medic gave a little grin. "Ah, I vas hoping you'd make it fun for me." The Medic seized the Sniper's good wrist and jerked him hard, but Sniper pulled back. The German man gritted his teeth and let go, allowing him to stagger backwards. While he was off guard, Medic yanked his forearm, pulling him towards the operating table for difficult patients. There was a brief tussle that involved the Medic's glasses being broken and several bruises being formed on both fighters. The Medic managed to pin the Sniper down, throwing his wrist into a cuff and shutting it. It locked with a click and Sniper growled furiously.

"Zis may be fun," Medic panted, looking delighted despite the blood dripping from his nose, "But you must lay still or I may accidently break somezing. I vouldn't vant to cause you any unnecessary pain." Sniper gave a grumble and lay still while the team doctor secured cuffs at one of his wrists, his chest, his shoulders, his knees, and his ankles. The Medic held out his arm and continued cleaning while Sniper used every foul profanity he could think of. The Medic nodded. "Hold still, Herr Sniper." He said, in the voice one uses when talking to a stubborn child. He withdrew a long needle and carefully inserted it into Sniper's arm. Sniper gave a little gasp of pain and surprise, and Medic withdrew the needle.

"Zis next part is going to hurt, und I can't concentrate properly if you start screaming." Medic explained. "So you get to sleep zrough zis one." Sniper passed out a few minutes later due to the drug.

He later learned that Medic had burned _through _his arm for some insane reason, accidentally burning it so badly he had to amputate. At that point, the Medic had given up and used the medigun. A few minutes after the procedure was over, Sniper woke up, slightly delirious. The Medic waited a few minutes until he could properly move and speak, then unlocked his shackles.

Sniper staggered to his feet, giving the psychotic German a glare. The doctor returned the look with a frown. "Mein friend, you veren't even avake to know vat I did, vy must you give me a look of such hatred?" He tutted.

Medic agreed to take a look at Spook because in the end Sniper had cooperated. He declared Spook would survive- and that Spook was a female. Afterward, he'd practically forced Sniper out, with a simple "Gute Nacht" before he'd locked the infirmary doors shut. Sniper withdrew Spook from his coat pocket and put her atop his shoulder, where she perched nobly. She curled her tail around his shoulder and under his armpit, dug her claws in, and ceased movement. "Spook, I woulda been really upset if you'd died," He told the lizard earnestly, stroking her spiny back lightly. She moved a little bit, pricking his shoulders with her claws. Sniper yelped. "Wanker," He muttered to the reptile, but his voice was good-natured. He ambled into the kitchen, where Pyro was serving Spy some kind of steaming hot soup.

"Oy didn't know we actually had real food here," Sniper sighed, setting into a chair. His hunger gnawed fiercely at his stomach, and he started eating. He could barely taste it, but it was _warm, _almost scalding hot; Plus, both the infirmary and outside had been as cold as Russia in the winter. He downed the whole bowl of soup quickly and had two more helpings before declaring himself done. Spy, however, was just finishing his first.

Sniper gave a little snort of laughter and Spy responded with an arched eyebrow and a glare.

"So." The Engineer prompted the two mercs in front of him. "What's with the chameleon?"


	2. The Difficult Day of a Doctor (Part One)

The Difficult Day of a Doctor

Archimedes let out a little coo, waking the Medic. His head jolted up, and he looked around- it took a second for him to realize this was not, in fact, his bedroom. He was in the infirmary, sitting in an uncomfortable chair, his face against a clean white counter. He shook his head slightly, than rubbed his face with his hands- he was still wearing his gloves. He got up, wincing at the stiffness in his legs and back, and stretched a little. His glasses were ruined, thanks to Sniper's protests against his 'healing', and his nose was peppered with small cuts. He gave a little grumble and walked over to a drawer, slumping over slightly. He straightened his posture, rummaged through the drawer, and retrieved an extra pair of glasses.

He turned to Archimedes and tutted at the blood-spattered bird. "You vere playing vith ze Sniper's severed arm again, veren't you? Ach, you're all bloody." He liked to keep the infirmary clean, although it was often dirtied when he had to struggle with a patient or was trying out a new experiment. Blood ended up _everywhere, _even in places he'd never touched before. How did the Scout's blood end up at the top of a shelf? He didn't know, but he'd cleaned it. Pristine and white was the way he kept his infirmary, and he was damn proud of it.

Back to Archimedes. He would have to bathe the bird, no doubt, and that often got tough. Archimedes liked getting filthy, but not getting clean; and the other doves would rebel against the Teutonic doctor and nip at his fingers, ears, or nose. He gave a little huff of annoyance and headed to see what he'd been working on before accidentally falling asleep. He examined the papers he'd had beneath him quickly. They described the condition of the organs Sniper and Spy had brought him yesterday night. One of them would be useless, as it had been even more poisoned with alcohol then the Demo's current liver.

He stared at the papers in a blank trance, re-reading them without really absorbing any of the details. It took a coo from Archimedes to snap him out of it- he quickly set the papers down and went to Sniper's blackened, severed arm. Hmm. How to dispose of it? He figured he would just keep it in storage for now, and strode to it, picking it up and walking to a cooler. There were several large coolers in the room, four to be precise. One of them housed hearts of all varieties, and a severed Spy's head. That reminded him, he'd promised the Spy he'd buy him more cigarettes. Maybe he should do that tom- He tried to get back into focus. Heart, liver, lungs. Those were the major storages, as he often needed them for the various damages the other mercs had caused to themselves. The last one was the largest, filled with various organs, bones, or even packs of blood. One of them, the Medic couldn't remember which, housed birdseed for his doves.

He stuffed the Sniper's arm into the last cooler and shut it, before turning and marching over to Archimedes. He seized the bird, although gently, and strode over to the sink. He didn't bother telling Archimedes to settle down; it wouldn't do any good.

…

Twenty minutes later, the bird was clean. The Medic had more scratches on his nose and a nick in his ear, plus his gloves had been scraped and scratched so many times you could see bare flesh, but the bird's feathers were white and glossy again. He put away various bottles of chemicals he'd used to clean the bird's feathers in cabinets by the sink. He let out a tired grunt and sighed. He'd need to get all of his wounds checked up on. He stripped off his gloves and took a look- that was the easiest. Only a few areas even had broken skin. He bandaged those and rummaged around, looking for new gloves somewhere- but all he had were the battered red pair.

Very well. He could deal with that. He examined his nose, which had gone into a steady throb. The bridge was covered in many, many cuts, most half-scabbed and tender. One of his nostrils had been nicked by a beak, and he couldn't really bandage that very well. He delicately applied antiseptics to the cuts and swore softly at the stinging. He wiped away the bubbly foam it'd left and applied a small bandage across his nose. He very, very carefully extracted a small sliver of glass from his cheek and slapped a bandage on that wound. He examined his appearance instead of his wounds and set to work- brushing his fine brown hair, washing his face (after the wound treatment, because he'd forgotten to do it beforehand) and adjusting the glasses smartly.

He didn't want to leave the infirmary to get cleaner clothes on, but forced himself to. He hadn't checked the clock in the infirmary and was surprised to find it was almost six in the morning. Four hours' sleep and he felt very well rested. Odd. He hurried upstairs into his room- it was just the basics. Bed, dresser, wardrobe, wooden floor, window. All of the rooms looked the same, but with a small touch of their own. Medic's had a small bust of Hippocrates on the dresser; Sniper's had arrows and bullets slung randomly across the floor; Spy's was kept locked at all times, and no one had actually seen in it, so it was anyone's guess what lay inside. Medic opened the wardrobe and stripped naked before getting re-dressed in clean clothes. He stripped off the gloves and headed back for the infirmary- both his boots and long lab coat were both back there.

Once he was completely dressed, the Medic slung on the über backpack and hefted the medigun. He checked his belt, where his bonesaw hung, and was happy to find it sharpened and cleaned from the previous night. He supposed it would be _his _job to wake everyone up this morning, as it was an unspoken tradition that the first one up should wake the other mercs. Either Medic or Soldier was usually charged with this task.

Right. The first one to wake would either be Heavy or Soldier. They would be the least irritable at being woken up early by him. He headed upstairs and rapped on the Heavy's door. The rooms weren't very far apart, so he tried to keep quiet. Once he'd made the mistake of waking up the Spy first, and had gone through Respawn for his troubles. Soon enough he heard the bed squeak as a large weight was lifted off it and the groan of wooden planks as the Heavy trod across them. The Russian let out a grunt as he opened the door.

"Aah. Doktor." The Russian's heavy, thick accent was surprising, shattering the silence he'd enjoyed. But he wasn't _loud; _in fact, his voice was unusually quiet and muddled with sleepiness. "Hold on a minute." He closed the door and most likely was getting dressed- when he'd opened the door at first he was wearing nothing but boxers, a fact which Medic tried to ignore. He would be cool-headed around any of the _other _mercs, but for some reason embarrassment flooded him around the Heavy. He didn't want to think of why at that moment, so he preoccupied himself with imagining the battle ahead.

The Heavy lumbered out the door, still sleepy. He was fully dressed, with the exception of his bandoleer and boots. "Fully dressed?" He commented on the Doctor's appearance, brow rising in surprise. "How long have you been avake, Doktor? Vat happened to your face?"

"I've been avake for thirty minutes or so, mein friend. And it vas a combination of Herr Sniper and my doves." The Medic said shortly. "Ve should go vake everyvon else." Heavy gave a sleepy nod of agreement and the two walked down the hall, knocking on doors and informing everyone it was time to wake up. Heavy had to threaten to punch Scout repeatedly before the scrawny Bostonian agreed to get up and get dressed. Sniper was quite agreeable, despite being up late. Spook was faithfully perched on his shoulder, and Scout thought it necessary to make a comment on just how creepy it looked. Sniper hit him and Scout shut up.

It was seven in the morning by the time every member of RED was up, dressed, and ready. An hour until the battle would begin. The Engineer sauntered into the kitchen and began doing the dishes from the night previous, while Pyro cooked. Scout, Soldier, and Demo went off to shower; Spy had just slipped out from the shower, had gotten dressed, and was now having a heated argument with Sniper about Spook in the small dining room. Heavy had stayed in his room, probably cleaning Sasha, and the Medic had slipped back into the infirmary, trying to tidy up his files but failing miserably and instead feeding the birds. (The birdseed had turned up in the heart's cooler, next to the severed BLU Spy's head, who'd angrily told Medic he hadn't gotten the cigarettes he wanted.)

The Medic left the infirmary, trotting upstairs. He headed for the kitchen and inhaled deeply. Whatever the Pyro was cooking smelled good.

"Yo, Doc!" A friendly hand rose and waved, while the other hand stuffed the owner's mouth with pancake. "It looks like you faceplanted into gravel!" Scout gave an easy, cocky grin. The youngest merc was full of childish confidence and arrogance. The Medic felt a small prick of irritation at the Bostonian's words, but ignored it. _No reason to fight among ourzelves, _he reasoned.

"Hello, Scout." His voice was wearier than he'd intended. "Vere is everyvon else?" By this time almost everyone was at the table eating, with the usual exception of Spy, who disliked most everything the Pyro or the Engineer cooked.

"Spy and Snipes are still arguing over his lizard," Scout flapped his hand vaguely. "Solly and Demo are arguin' over whether American or Scottish food is better. Hardhat and Mumbles are taking a shower-" (Scout snickered at this, but Medic shot him a glare) "And Heavy's upstairs, doin' somethin', I dunno what."

The Medic grunted in understanding and began picking at the sausage on his plate. He wasn't really feeling all that hungry, but it was important to keep his strength up. He downed a cup of coffee and tapped his foot, waiting for another mercenary to join them so he could get away from Scout. Scout was actively babbling about a new hat he'd found, gesturing wildly with his hands. Thankfully, both Soldier and Demo marched into the kitchen, arguing loudly about foods. Soldier claimed that any type of American barbeque was a thousand times better than any Scottish food that ever existed. Eventually the Medic grew tired of their loud debate.

"Herr Soldier, Herr Demo, if you vould be quiet," The Medic growled over another cup of the bitter black drink. The two mercenaries blinked, suddenly realizing they were in the kitchen, and sat down, helping themselves to pancakes and coffee. The Medic looked reproachfully at Demo, who was raising a bottle of scrumpy to his lips. The one-eyed Scottish man set it down, giving an irate snort. The older mercs settled into a quiet, dignified silence as they ate- but Scout was anything but silent. His babbling went on for an excruciating amount of time.

He stopped yammering for a second as soon as he'd finished his food, then got up, plate in hand. He set the plate in the sink, casually strolled by Soldier, and swiped the Soldier's helmet before dashing away, shouting "Later, nerds!" Soldier sprung up, yelling like a maniac, and pursued the youngest mercenary even though he didn't have a chance in catching up. Demo gave a snort of amusement. Medic watched them until they were out of sight before sighing and turning back to his breakfast.

"Sometimes I vonder who ze real psychopaths are," He murmured. Demo gave a small nod of agreement before roughly slicing off a good chunk of pancake and stuffing it in his mouth. There was a yell of outrage from somewhere nearby. Spy came careening down the stairs and bolted through the dining room and the kitchen, a neon-green chameleon tucked in his arms. Sniper wasn't far behind, racing after him and yelling _"Give her back, you bloody backstabbing wanker!"_ Medic got to his feet, making a snap decision, and raced after the Sniper and the Spy. He was the fastest on the team other than Scout, so even if he was joining the chase late…

He nudged the Sniper aside as they dashed down the hallway. He intercepted Spy just before the mercenary could get to his room. He tackled the Spy, tore the chameleon from the Frenchman's grasp, and sauntered over to Sniper, presenting him with Spook. The Sniper took her, dipping his head and mumbling "Thank –you, Doc" and retreated to his room. Medic turned to Spy, giving him a harsh look. "Vy did you steal his chameleon?"

"He wouldn't _shut up _about it," Spy muttered, dusting himself off. "He's like _Scout _now."

"Surely he's not zat bad?" Medic tilted his head questioningly, but Spy didn't answer. He slipped into his room and locked the door. The Medic shrugged, and headed downstairs, heading back to the breakfast table. Scout was being dragged by the Engineer, who had him firmly by the wrist. The Engineer politely told him to apologize. Scout refused, but did give Soldier back his helmet. Small steps, the Medic supposed. He took Spook from Sniper and gave the little creature a swift examination, making sure neither he, Sniper, nor Spy had damaged the little creature.

Eventually, the rest of the team filed into the Respawn room. Heavy cradled Sasha on his lap, Scout was nervously tossing a ball up in the air. Spy was smoking, Sniper was feeding Spook a cockroach that Scout had found in his room, and Demo and Soldier were talking enthusiastically about some sort of sport. The Medic waited, feeling a small flutter of nervousness but also a deep reserve of confidence. He'd done this countless times. Engineer was yawning, keeping a careful eye on Pyro, who was watching Spook and Sniper with a sort of dreamy mood about him.

"The Announcer's late." The Engineer broke the tense silence around them. "We should've set off five minutes ago. Its eight thirty five now." Everyone stared at the Engineer, perhaps looking precisely what that meant for them. Engi gave a shrug at the confused glances. "I dunno, y'all." He said helplessly. "We're just gonna have to wait for her t' say somethin', I guess." The mercs all let out quiet mumbles. It was true; they weren't supposed to begin fighting until she commanded the battle to start.

After tense ten or so minutes, the intercom crackled. Heads jerked up so fast necks cracked, and the nine members of the RED team stared at the speakers. The cold, disinterested female voice came slowly from them. "The rest of the week will be a cease-fire. Redmond Mann has decided that he wants to review old security footage and see both your strategies and Blutarch's mercenaries'. He's requested a cease-fire until he's finished." The speakers crackled once, then went silent.

The Medic was the first one to say anything. "Vell, zen. I vas going to do physicals next Saturday, but I suppose ve could do zem now." He blinked.

"Can't 'cha wait until next Saturday, Doc?" Scout protested weakly.

"I don't think so, lady," The Soldier growled, still staring at the speaker. His gravelly voice was full of anger. "No fighting until next week? I didn't serve for this many years to be put off by a cease-fire! We're going to blindly fight them like we always do, and by God, we'll win!" He pumped a fist into the air, his enthusiasm backed by no one. There was a long silence as the news was allowed to completely sink in.

"Are ve still getting paid?" The Heavy asked uncertainly. No one knew. Spy got up slowly and strode out the door, giving a vague valediction as he left. Sniper got up afterward and left. Slowly the mercs filed out of the Respawn room, perhaps wondering just what they were supposed to do now. Medic was left last, heading back for the infirmary. He was determined to finally organize those files.

…

The Medic let out a little grunt of satisfaction as his fingers danced over files on his other mercenaries. Some were quite large, some were rather lacking. His files were only on physical health, not names or homes or something Spy would have. His smallest file was on the Pyro- there was literally nothing in it. The Engineer insisted on hiding him whenever the physicals came around, and the Medic could only speculate what kind of mental disorder or disorders he had. He figured it was possibly a multi-personality disorder and schizophrenia of varying degrees; but he was more knowledgeable about physical medicine than mental. Even so, without testing he hadn't been able to properly diagnose, and his knowledge so far was mere speculation. He didn't like speculation, so he'd never put it on file.

The Engineer's files were quite vast- everything had been detailed. Perhaps he'd thought that if he supplied more of _his _information it would make up for Pyro's lacking amount. Most of the mercs really weren't all that bad with their physical health- with the exception of Spy and Demo, who could smoke and drink more than a lifetime would allow thanks to extracted organs, the medigun, and an insane doctor from Stuttgart.

Recently, he'd been trying to figure out the source of the Heavy's massive size and the Scout's ability to seemingly be able to run forever. The first he'd finally settled on was mere genetics, and the second he was no closer to solving than he was when he'd first began, thanks to Scout's lack of cooperation. He lightly brushed the small data he'd gathered with a finger, then set it into the Scout's file. Every file was organized properly. There were packets- first containing their physical status, updated every month and set in the very front of the file. There were other files somewhere carrying every year's worth of these packets, but the Medic didn't remember where. After that packet was a chronological history of any wounds or illnesses they'd suffered. Then, in the very back, blood type, skin color, race, eye color, hair color, fingerprints, and samples of hair and skin, taken once every six months.

He'd finally organized them when Scout came dashing in. "Doc! Soldier broke Demo's legs!" He called. The Medic gave an irate groan, setting down a file.

"Hmph. Herr Scout, vait here. Promise me you von't leave or I'll lock you in." Medic said coldly, withdrawing a key. This was the _only _key, and the infirmary could be locked or unlocked from either side with it. Scout gave a tense nod. Medic allowed a ghost of a smile to appear on his lips before warning him not to touch anything. He grabbed the über backpack and headed out of the infirmary, wondering what Demo'd done to Soldier.

He arrived into the hall, where Soldier and Demo were _still _verbally sparring, despite Demo laying on the ground with his legs twisted and broken. "Ze next von to say a single vord," He said, allowing his words to be slow and careful. "Vill be ze next subject to a new experiment I'm vorking on. Only speak if I'm asking you direct questions. Do you understand me?"

"Aye, Doc." Demo nodded, and Soldier nodded as well. The Medic crouched, allowing a steady flow of healing coil around the Demoman's crippled legs. "Now, vy did Soldier break your legs?"

"I said he 'adden't relly been in the army." The Demo muttered, yelping as the Medic held down one of his broken legs with a foot. Soldier gave a rough growl, beginning to speak again, but Medic shushed him. After a few more moments, the Medic stood up.

"Schtop being idiots." He said, and left.

When he returned to the infirmary, Scout wasn't there. Even though he'd expected Scout to leave, but it was still irritating either way. There was a light tap on the door and the Heavy, Engineer, and Pyro cautiously entered.

"Hiya, Doc," Engineer offered up a grin. "Just gotta ask somethin' real quick, I promise. We were wondrin' if you'd like to come with us to town. Gotta buy supplies- we used up a lotta stuff makin' breakfast this morning."

"Oh, ja, I'll come." The Medic glanced behind him, seeing if he had any work left to do. He wasn't preoccupied with anything important, and if he was going to go anywhere with someone on the team he supposed he would've liked to go with those three the most out of all the other RED members. "But are you sure it's a vise idea to take Pyro vith us?"

"Maybe not, but he wants t' go, Doc. There's only so many times I can lock him in his room 'fore he wants to figure out why I'm leavin' him behind." He gave a helpless glance at the Medic. "Come on, I'll take full responsibility. In any case, it's not like he'll have any weapons with 'im, right?"

The Medic gave a reluctant nod.

…

Screams hang in the air, coming from multiple sources. Acrid smoke burned the Medic's lungs and his eyes stung as he searched desperately for another mercenary. There was a panicked yell and someone fired a pistol from nearby- The Medic staggered towards it, hacking and coughing. Fear flashed through him- He could really _die _out here, for good. No Respawn out here. He stumbled out of the store through a window he'd shattered with his bonesaw. Smoke came pouring out from the window along with him, nearly suffocating him. At that moment he would've traded everything in the world for a breath of clean, fresh air. And a second later, he got just that as a giant fist larger than a baseball mitt scooped him up by the back of the coat. He shot a tired, relieved look at Engineer- who'd kept his cool, gotten out, and had fired the shot. Medic then mumbled a raspy thank-you to Heavy, who gently set the German man down. There was a long pause as they gazed with a shocked wonder at the flaming store. It'd grown eerily silent.

"Do ve go after dem? De people left inside?" Heavy asked. Medic shook his head, not wanting to tell him that most of them had probably perished already.

Despite all this, it had started off normal enough. Engineer, Medic, Heavy, and Pyro piled into Sniper's van, who had generously given him the key for the day. Engineer, the only one with a license, was driving. Pyro had gotten the shotgun seat beside him, while Medic and Heavy had to share the back. It was roomy back there, though, so Medic couldn't find it in himself to complain.

"Not too far now," Engineer said, his voice bright with real cheer. Pyro let out cheerful little mumble at these words. The Engineer's mood was infectious- everyone was in high-spirits, including the normally grumpy doctor. The Engineer drove down the worn, faded roads while whistling to himself. Medic didn't know the song, but it was up-beat and catchy. The Engineer entered a small, dusty town that was their regular supplier. Nine full-grown men were not cheap to feed, but their jobs paid plenty to cover the expense. However, this small place was only for the basic necessities- it didn't have the type of food that someone like Spy appreciated, and it didn't have much else besides food. There was a larger, better place to shop, in the closest city, but it was much farther along. It would take a solid twenty four hours to get there, shop, and drive back.

The Engineer parked. The store was easily the biggest building in the town, the least worn, and the most vibrant looking. The owners probably got all these renovations from all the money RED and BLU were spending on their stock. Their selections were also getting larger and larger- more types of food, in better quality, and a larger amount. The store-owners greeted Engineer warmly, with a warm "How are you today, Mr. Conagher?"

The Engineer waved, mumbling back a vague greeting. He headed swiftly to the shelves, Pyro tailing close behind. Medic gazed around in vague fascination- he hadn't been anywhere civilian in over a year. There was a distant feeling of being somewhere he'd been before. It was a nice feeling, in a way. He moved along the aisles in a sort of dreamlike stupor until the Heavy nudged him.

"Huh? Vat is it?" He snapped out of it and tilted his head to stare up at the giant Russian.

"I asked you if you hear dat." He said softly. "Sounds like trouble."

"Don't vorry, mein friend, zere's novon who could hurt us. Ve're close enough to Respawn now that even a fatality is not a problem." He flapped his hand idly as he trotted down the aisle, stopping for a moment to examine a can of meat. He gave a little snort of disgust. It wasn't ever like the real thing, freshly roasted and seasoned.

"Doktor-" Heavy's voice was a little louder, a little more urgent. "Doktor, listen-!"

"Vatever it is, ve are fine, Heavy," While his voice was patient, his words grew more forceful by each word. He put the can back.

"Doktor," Heavy muttered. His voice was lower, more somber, but as sharp as a sword. The RED Medic finally decided to see what he was on about, swiveling his head back to the Heavy. "Vat is so concerning zat-"

The BLU Heavy and BLU Medic were directly across from them, facing them down. Nervousness sparked in his stomach, spreading across his body and making his feet feel as though they'd been encased in a solid block of ice. Should they fight? Should they run? Should they just go about their business and pretend the BLU mercenaries weren't there at all?

"Guten Tag." The RED Medic said pleasantly, summoning every ounce of confidence he had and putting it into his greeting. He was relieved to hear his voice stay steady. He certainly wasn't. He felt some small relief in noting that the BLU team hadn't brought any visible weapons; the BLU's minigun, shotgun, and syringe gun were nowhere to be seen. He ran a red-fingered glove over his bonesaw, which hung at his belt. The BLU Medic gave a little chuckle at his words, not menacing or nervous; but it contained no humor at all.

"Zere's no reason to fear me, rot Arzt." The BLU Medic's voice didn't contain any hostility. "It's a cease fire."

"At ze base," The RED Medic countered. "Zere's vere no specific instructions against killing us avay from ze battleground."

"Vell, zat is true." He offered a humorless grin. "But out of curiosity, Herr Doctor, vat exactly happened to your face?"

"I do not believe I am at liberty to say." RED growled, curling his fingers around the bonesaw's handle. He was ready to ram it straight into the BLU Medic's heart and sprint down the aisle before the BLU Heavy could kill him. There was a long, tense silence. The BLU Medic seemed at perfect ease, as though he were in control. The BLU Heavy and the RED Heavy were staring at eachother, marveling at their perfect likenesses.

"Be neighbourly," The BLU Medic began, his lips curling in a thin, venomous smile; but he was interrupted by the Engineer and Pyro strolling down the aisle to them. The mood suddenly shifted. The BLUs were outnumbered.

It took less than three seconds. Faster than the RED Medic could've anticipated. The BLU Medic whipped out his syringe gun from behind him and fired- one needle into Medic, one into Heavy, one into Engineer. The fourth didn't pierce Pyro's suit, so the mercenary just tilted his head blankly, perhaps wondering why the Engineer had suddenly crumpled to the ground like he couldn't hold his own weight. The BLU Heavy carefully held the RED Pyro and stuck a syringe like the BLU Medic's- but much bigger and thicker. He pierced the Pyro's suit and had the poor mercenary on the ground before his teammates. The Red Medic gave a furious snarl, his limbs unwilling to obey his commands and occasionally twitching slightly.

"Zey may have said no killing," The BLU Medic said, standing over RED's with a triumphant smile. "But zey did not say no kidnapping."


	3. The Difficult Day of a Doctor (Part Two)

The Difficult Day of a Doctor (Part Two)

The RED Medic gave a frustrated growl, glaring furiously at the BLU's. BLU gave a chuckle, lifting up the RED mercenary by the back of his coat. The BLU Doctor didn't gloat, which RED expected. The BLU Medic, after all, was him; and he would've been gloating internally. The storeowners were unconscious, but a quick glance informed him there was no visible broken bone or blood. He forced his tense muscles to relax somewhat, and the BLU Medic tapped his jaw with his heavy boot, perhaps believing he was succumbing to the paralyzing drug. "Stay avake, rot," He said roughly. "I don't vant to vaste precious time vaking you."

The RED Medic tried to respond, but his jaw would not obey his command. His jaw twitched, muscles tightening when he tried to open them. He settled for a deep, throaty growl and was rewarded with a light kick to the jaw from his BLU doppelganger. He winced softly and looked around for the RED Heavy nervously. The Heavy was the largest out of the drugged mercs, and he was given the same size dose as the Medic and the Engineer. A dose large enough to incapacitate the Medic wouldn't be as effective on Heavy. The Russian would lose some control, but not enough to fully paralyze him. He located the RED Heavy, being dragged by his counterpart. He felt a brief, tiny flicker of hope that was crushed as he spotted the two blue-tipped needles in the Russian's shoulder.

His loss of hope had been noticed by the BLU Medic. "Ach, cheer up. Ve're still not allowed to _kill _you." The BLU Medic nudged his face again and the RED felt a hot prickle of indignation run through him. The BLU gave a grunt as he hoisted RED's useless, limp body over the wooden stairs leading to the store. He felt an unfamiliar prickle of jealousy as he noticed their Sniper's van was cleaner looking. The BLU Medic opened the van's door and tossed the Medic in. The breath was driven from his body and momentary pain flared up on impact. He tried to move, but the little control he'd had was gone. Moving was an exercise in futility. There was nothing to do but wait, paralyzed and uncertain. His glasses were tilted oddly on his nose, one lens cracked. He gave a little growl. That was the second pair broken in less than twenty-four hours, dammit. Glasses weren't cheap. His momentary irritation was stopped when scarred nose had begun to twinge in pain.

The RED Heavy was the next into the van, fully succumbed to two whole doses of the drug; completely unconscious. The RED Medic flicked his eyes over the mercenary to get a better look, but a blue glove tilted his head carefully away from the Russian. The gloved fingers adjusted his glasses so they rested normally. The hand withdrew and both the Engineer and Pyro were put in the van by the BLU Heavy. As soon as Pyro was put in, his head lolled at an odd angle. The Medic briefly wondered if it was possible that the Pyro was dead- there was no obvious indication of life. And as he wondered this, a cold feeling crept over the Medic, like clouds over the sun. It brought back childhood memories he'd loathed. Childish fear, paranoia, anxiety of the monsters under the bed and in the closet consumed him. Suddenly he was six years old again, lying in a cold bed, afraid of the non-existent monsters dancing in the shadows. The monsters that'd plagued him for almost his entire childhood, until he realized that he was the monster.

The Engineer gave a weak little groan of despair, catapulting the Medic from his memories back to the real world. The Medic wildly excused the sudden memories by insisting it was an effect of the drug, not merely the Pyro's presence. The Medic gritted his teeth, eyes sweeping over the Texan. The Engineer was pale and little beads of perspiration appeared on his face. The Medic felt a tiny throb of anger. The Engineer was the smallest, so of course he'd have more difficulties than the Medic. But the American was fighting tooth and nail to stay conscious, and the Medic felt a brief flicker of admiration and guilt.

"You may rest, Rot." The Medic's counterpart said from the driver's seat. "Ze drive vill take a vile, do try to get comfortable." The Medic could practically see the bastard's venomous smile. But he did have to admit he was a far better driver than himself, which Medic felt was unfair. The van handled bumpily on the road, and the RED Medic gave a muffled growl of complaint. All the jostling around was uncomfortable, and whenever it happened he would instinctively try to right or protect himself; and when he couldn't, he'd receive a jolt of fear. He tried to trick his body into believing he was purposely not moving to try to control the shrieking fear.

He didn't know how long the drug would last, but figured probably over eight hours. He gave an attempt at movement every ten minutes, silently counting each second down- _one, _in German, _two, _in English, _three, _in German, and so on. Every so often the Engineer would give a soft, frustrated groan as he attempted to move his fingers or other muscles to no avail. Eventually the BLU Medic stopped the van and pulled over. It was a _long _while. He'd counted down the ten minutes twenty four times- it was almost four hours of driving.

The BLU Medic opened the van's door and stepped into the living space. He knelt down and began to examine the Engineer, who was closest to the door. He grunted, examining the Engineer's physical state. "Ach, you've exhausted yourself, you rot schweinhund. Do yourzelf a favor and do not continue fighting ze drug." He took the Engineer's heart rate, scribbled it down, and instructed the Engineer to move as well as he could. The Engineer spat a mumbled, vulgar sentence of defiance. When the German man patiently explained he would move on to Pyro next if he refused, the Engineer was quite agreeable. He didn't even attempt verbal resistance when the Medic took a blood sample. Exploiting the weak link in the team had worked, and the RED Medic did not like that. The Medic skipped over Pyro, perhaps due to the Engineer, and examined the unconscious RED Heavy. The RED Medic tried to move his head to see the results, and surprisingly his muscles obeyed him. They were tired and sore, but they moved.

The BLU Medic gave a little _hmmph _at the RED Heavy's heart rate, and took the BLU Heavy's immediately afterward. "Very slow beats," The BLU Medic noted out loud. "Interesting." He laughed as his eyes met the RED Medic's carefully neutral expression. "He's not going to _die, _Herr Doctor. Even you should know zat much." He continued testing the Heavy the same way he'd tested the Engineer, but without the physical test. He finally moved on to the RED Medic, who glared defiantly into his double's gray-blue eyes.

"Come now, Herr Doctor, you know I vouldn't vant to cause you any unnecessary pain." The BLU Medic purred, eyes bright with excitement. "I vould very much appreciate your cooperation vith zese simple tests, und it vould be a shame if I had to hurt von of your teammates in zis van to get you to go along." He gave his sickly, thin smile and slowly pointed a thumb at the unconscious RED Russian. The Medic felt like spitting out every swear he knew, but he ground his teeth and relented, relaxing his sore muscles.

"See, zat vasn't very hard, vas it?" The BLU gingerly took his pulse. "Hmm. Accelerated heart rate. Afraid, Herr Doctor? I vould be. But are you afraid of me, or vat I vill do to you?" The RED Medic snarled, silenced by a jab to his wounded nose. "Move to ze best of your ability," He instructed. "Starting vith ze fingers." The RED obeyed, stiffly moving his fingers and working his way up to the neck and jaw. The BLU Medic's eyes briefly flickered with an emotion the Medic couldn't read. "Can you speak, rot?" He asked.

"I've got nozzing to say to you." The RED Medic said curtly, his voice slightly strained. But there was venom in his words. The BLU gave a grunt, withdrawing a final syringe. He withdrew RED's bonesaw from where it hung on his belt and cut a small, horizontal slash through his class insignia. The RED Medic groaned. That was his _only _coat. He would have to _sew it back together. _He internally shuddered at the thought, and his woes were quickly forgotten as the BLU Medic held open the torn cloth. The BLU inserted the syringe, pulled back the plunger, and the RED Medic winced. The rival Medic set the syringe in the black pouch on his belt.

"Vait." The RED Medic said feebly as the BLU Medic began to leave. "Vere are ve going?"

"Someplace vere novon vill bozzer us." The BLU responded, giving a wicked, anticipating grin. "Und, RED, stop trying to struggle. In ze end, your struggling vill only make it vorse."

…

The lengthy drive ended after four more hours later. The Medic was willing to bet he could walk around now, but not able to defend himself against any attack. The BLU Medic opened the van. "Alright, Rot, it's time to get out. Ve have vork to do." There was that grin, again! The Medic wanted to slap him, but instead rose to his feet shakily. His legs trembled with the effort and he had to put conscious thought into standing. BLU looked slightly impressed, the corners of his mouth slightly rising.

"Do you zink you'll need assistance, Herr Doctor?" He asked mockingly, noting the effort it took to stand. The Engineer got up as well, his face pale. He gazed out at the sliding metal door in front of them, built into the craggy rock face. "This is…"

"Ja." The Medic gave a nod. "Zis is ze RED base from ze mission almost three monz ago. Und ve're going to figure out zome zings vile ve're here."

The BLU Heavy lifted Pyro by the back of his suit. The Pyro could've been dead, for all anyone knew. He certainly didn't look very alive. The Engineer's jaw tightened.

"If you lay a single goddamn hand on him, BLU, I swear to God I will break you in half." He snarled to the BLU Medic, his voice full of uncharacteristic rage. The BLU Medic recoiled slightly, before pausing to think for a moment. "If you cooperate und behave zen ve'll see, Herr Engineer. You're hardly in a position to threaten us."

The RED mercinaries were slowly led to the RED Medic's old infirmary. They walked slowly, as well as their weakened legs would allow. When they reached the room, it was exactly as the RED Medic remembered it. Coated in a thin layer of dust, with only a few cabinets and shelves; a prototype medigun mounted on the ceiling above an operating table, and a few feet past that one a table for patients that hadn't consented. The BLU Medic gestured for him to lie down on the operating table beneath the Quick-Fix prototype. RED ground his teeth again and was furious with himself for obeying his kidnapper's wishes. The BLU Medic carefully set out a tray of sharp objects he'd gathered from somewhere, keeping a firm hand on RED's chest to keep him down in case he tried to bolt or struggle. Once he'd finished fiddling with the scalpels, he turned his attention to the RED mercenary before him.

He unbuttoned RED's coat, vest, and the crisp, clean white shirt beneath that. He selected a small, razor-sharp blade. "Zince I cannot dissect myself properly, you are ze next best thing," BLU informed him.

He lightly went over the Medic's chest with the blade, barely even touching the skin and causing the RED Medic to shiver. "You have a high pain tolerance," The BLU Medic said, still tracing his stomach with the scalpel. "I know because I do." He set the scalpel on the tray and brought down the old prototype. He flicked it on and the wounds on his nose and face faded. A pleasant warmth spread throughout his body as the red vapor sought out wounds and fixed them. His aching body grew less weary, and the drug's remaining effects weakened. At that moment, the BLU Heavy returned with the RED Heavy and set him onto the operating table for non-consenting patients. He cuffed the RED in and shuffled out, most likely waiting outside the door.

The scalpel bit lightly into the Medic's flesh and he gave a soft gasp. The BLU gave a delicate swipe and made a cut from his ribs to the lower intestines. The skin healed before blood could ooze from it- but a cut still remained. The two portions of skin were separated. The BLU Medic slowly continued this procedure until he could actually lift off a large section of skin from the RED's torso. The medigun assured there was no bleeding.

The BLU Medic gazed thoughtfully at the RED Medic's organs as they worked. His lungs, folded in, suddenly popped open as they filled with air. The heart pumped as it enriched blood with oxygen and sent it around the body. A network of uncut veins continued to function, crimson blood traveling down the blue-tinted veins with each steady beat. Other organs worked and moved in their own rhythm, their only purpose to keep their owner alive and functional.

"No appendix." BLU noted. "I still have mine."

"Got rid of it a long time ago," RED said flippantly. Despite his cool tone, his brain was screaming in fear. Being able to see your own organs was _not good, _and the brain knew it. For the first time the sight of organs made him nauseated. He tilted his head back and allowed his enemy doctor to carefully examine his organs. He could sort of feel it as the BLU Medic brushed aside organs to see his kidneys- but in a vague, distant way. He kept his eyes firmly shut. He wanted desperately to kill the Medic pawing through his innards, or to flee. Both natural responses to fear. But he had nothing to attack with and nowhere to run. When he opened his eyes again, the BLU lowered his scalpel and cut away a kidney, examining it closely.

"Not mine," The Medic explained, his voice plagued with fear and exhaustion. "Zere vas… an _incident _zat required a new von."

"It isn't von of our mercinaries'." The BLU grumbled. "I could recognize zem all on sight. Whose kidney _is _zis?"

"None of your concern," The RED Medic growled. "Und if you really vant to know you can have fun trying to get it from me." Adrenaline surged through him at that very moment.

The BLU Medic gave a huff and lightly set it into place. The medigun would repair it later. He gave RED's exposed entrails a final glimpse, almost _longingly, _and lowered the medigun. The medigun fixed the small damages he'd done while poking around, including re-setting the kidney together properly. Skin regrew, creeping across his open chest cavity in globs of pale, unattractive flesh until it was sealed. The Engineer raised his head, noticing the whirring of the medigun. He was crouching next to the slumped Pyro from where he was propped against the wall. He looked exactly the way a fussy mother did when crouching over her hurt child. "Doc? Y'all right?"

"Shaky, I imagine. He did not look very happy to see his internal organs examined by an enemy. But vezzer shaky or not, ze moment is over. Ve have another drive ahead." The BLU smiled again, approaching the Engineer and Pyro. The Medic gave a weak little groan from his position on the operating table, too exhausted to even move.

"Where in Hell are we goin' now?" The Engineer barked, his voice harsh. He got to his feet. "We're in no fit state to travel, BLU."

The Medic's smile melted off his face. "I varned you to behave, rot." He said, his voice so soft it was hard to hear. He set his boot on one of Pyro's sprawled legs. The Engineer flinched.

"Stop," He snapped.

The BLU Medic did not stop. He let a little more of his weight down on the pyromaniac, and in turn the Pyro's leg began to tilt to the side. He set down his full weight and there was a snap, like a twig breaking. The Pyro's foot remained completely to the side, even when his knee was facing upwards.

"Mein Gott." The RED Medic whispered hoarsely.

The Engineer's face went a pale gray-white and he looked like he was going to be sick. He recoiled slightly and turned to the BLU with fury etched into every line of his face. His eyes smoldered with murderous fury. In response, the BLU Medic placed his foot on the Pyro's other leg, his eyebrow raised. He seemed to be asking, _Do I have to break this one, too? _The Engineer stepped away, looking bitter. The RED Medic lurched to his feet and grabbed Pyro's arm, dragging him over to the prototype while his BLU twin watched disdainfully.

He carefully righted Pyro's foot, setting it back into place, and flicked on the ceiling-mounted medigun. The BLU Medic gave an uncaring grunt and left the infirmary. "Ve leave in ten minutes." He said briskly, before shutting the doors.

The Medic sighed, dragging Pyro back. He shot the Engineer a helpless glance. "Do you zink Pyro vill be alright?" He asked in concern. "Vithout taking of ze suit I can't really tell if he's alive or not." The Engineer gave him a dark look before carefully propping the merc against the wall. He stood up and nodded at the Medic.

They stood in a thoughtful silence for a while, staring at Pyro.

"I'm starvin', Doc." The Engineer said suddenly.

"Ja. I am hungry as vell. But zere's nozzing ve can do about it."

There was a longer silence. Stretching to what seemed like hours.

"You can admit you were scared, Doc."

"I vas not!" The RED Medic said hotly. The Engineer chuckled and lifted Pyro up with a grunt. "Nozzing scares me, _schweinhund!" _

"Sure, Doc. Sure." He hid a grin and glanced up at the old, dusty clock in the infirmary. "Ten minutes is up," He informed Medic. The BLU Medic bustled in, withdrawing needles from his pouch, filled with a semi-clear liquid with a blue tint. He ushered the mercinaries outside, instructing the Engineer to set Pyro in the back of the van. He beckoned for the Engineer.

"Zis vill only sting for a moment," The BLU Medic said sweetly. He set a syringe into the Engineer's arm. "Ve have a stop to make before I decide vat to do vith you." The Engineer didn't protest, verbally or physically, as the BLU injected him with the paralyzing drug again. Now was not the time to do something stupid. They needed to think of a plan. The drug was beginning to grip the Engineer, although this time it was a considerably smaller dose.

The RED Medic gave a growl as the BLU approached him. He was _not _keen on being caught in the paralysis again. The BLU roughly grabbed his arm and the RED Medic jerked away just as he lowered the syringe. Droplets of blood beaded on his arm from the BLU's accidental puncture. The BLU Medic and the RED began a brief scuffle, ended by the BLU Heavy pulling the RED away and lifting him off the ground. The BLU carefully held the RED's arm still and gave the injection.

"RED, ve already had zis talk," The BLU Medic scolded, wicked enjoyment dancing in his eyes as he placed the semi-paralyzed Medic into the van. "Cooperation among ze bozz of us vill let zis go by faster. I can get back to killing ze REDs und you can go back to killing ze BLUs." He abandoned his lecture and headed to the front of the car, slamming the door and moving off. It took less than twenty minutes to get wherever it was they were going.

The car came to a halt. The BLUs departed, leaving the REDs behind. At that moment, the Heavy gave a weak groan, flickering open his eyes.

"Nice of you to join us, Herr Heavy." The Medic said tiredly. "Ve cannot escape right now because my BLU counterpart has drugged us. Don't try to move, it vill only trigger a fear response. And zat is not vat ve need."

The Pyro's head jerked and everyone flinched.

A surge of tension flooded over the immobilized mercenaries. The Pyro tilted his head at the Engineer, a sort of strange, questioning look about him. The Engineer gave a tiny nod.

The Pyro got up. A cold pit of fear burned in the RED Medic's stomach. The Pyro rarely got like this. In battle, he was a raging psychopath. Out of battle, he was far-off and distance, off in his own little world, or childish. He listened to the Engineer reading stories, played with a child's toys, and loved every animal that'd ever existed. But there were other times, not very often, where he seemed more like Spy.

He grew _depth. _He was able to perceive the world like he never could before, understand and function properly. And he was a _ruthless _killer. There was a grim, chilling aura around the masked mercenary as he opened the van door and stepped out. He gave the incapacitated REDs a stiff nod and closed the door. The cold feeling in his stomach vanished.

The Heavy was staring out at the door nervously. "I fear nothing." He muttered. "But sometimes… Pyro scares me."

There was a long silence.

"He's going to kill zem. Ze BLUs." The Medic said to the Engineer.

"I know."

"If anyvon is around zem, he's going to kill zem, too."

"I know."

Another overly long silence.

"Ve go after him." Heavy said, looking around to see if they dared to argue. "Ve need keys for van, and dey have dem. Pyro vould not know zis."

"We're kinda stuck, Heavy." Engineer said regretfully. The Heavy grunted and rose to his feet. Like Pyro, he hadn't had the second dose either.

"I vill take you." He declared, scooping up the Engineer like he weighed nothing. Medic shook his head as the Heavy approached him, struggling to his own feet. His legs were numb and sometimes outright refused to move unless he specifically thought about it. This made it difficult to move, but the Medic had _some _dignity left. He couldn't lose it all now by being carried like a doll.

"Quickly," The Medic urged, going into a light run to stay by Heavy, who was running as fast as he could. Then he heard the first scream, coming from inside a large building. An old, wood-based place; very flammable-looking, several stories tall and grand-looking.

"Los! Los!" He called to the Heavy. "Move, schnell!"

The Heavy nodded grimly in his direction. They entered the place and people raced for the exit. Heavy easily made his way through, being over a foot taller than most of the people rushing out. He grabbed Medic's wrist and yanked him along, fighting the surge of fleeing people. There was a cry of pain that Medic recognized as his own, coming from not too far up ahead. The crowd had thinned now and Medic was able to see Pyro slashing viciously at the BLU doctor with a hatchet on some sort of stage. Pyro let out a howl of triumph as his axe slammed into the BLU's left hand, cutting it off at the wrist. The Medic gave a screech of pain and scarlet blood burst from his newly formed stump of a hand. The Pyro's axe was stuck in the wall, holding the BLU there by the glove. There was previous wound in the BLU Medic's chest, quickly staining the light blue coat a dark red. The Pyro yanked his axe out of the wood, readying it over the BLU Medic's heart.

The Pyro's arms were coming down as the BLU Heavy's fist slammed into the Pyro's head, dazing him for a moment. The BLU picked up the Pyro like a rag doll and threw him hard onto the ground, where he lay stunned. The BLU Heavy helped his wounded Medic up and pulled off the glove on his right, placing it over the stump. The Heavy could take Pyro on without a problem.

Pyro persistently got up, tearing off one of his incendiary grenades. The BLU Heavy and Medic fled, and the Pyro threw it. It exploded into a whooshing circle of flame, destroying everything that got within range of it. Small flames clung to the edges of the wooden circle that the grenade had burned, quickly spreading to consume the rest of the wood around it. The Pyro yanked off another incendiary grenade, throwing it hard. He wasn't very good at aiming, and that one missed as well, exploding into a cloud of flame and burning more wood. The fires spread quickly, climbing the wood and charring it black. Smoke began to rise as wood was devoured by long tongues of golden-orange flame. The Pyro threw his last grenade and fire swept over the other area. People previously unaware of the threat started screaming.

Pyro caught up with the BLU Heavy, readying his axe for the kill. The Heavy struck first. His fist slammed into Pyro's upper left. There was an audible snap over the flames. _Broken collarbone, _the RED Medic diagnosed immediately. He snapped out of the daze that had come over him while watching the Pyro engage in combat. The Pyro was knocked off the stage again and this time didn't get up. Maybe it was worse than just a broken collarbone.

"Heavy!" He shouted. _"Get moving! Get Pyro and go, I'll get ze keys from BLU!"_ The larger mercenary nodded, jogging over to the fallen merc. Flames surrounded them now, bright and hot. His ears were full of the flames crackling wood. The fire was so bright to the point where it hurt to see. His nose stung with the awful scent of smoke, and he could _taste it, _too. His throat felt like someone had rubbed it with sandpaper. The flames flickered all around him, intensely hot and greedily looking for something else to burn. The Medic staggered swiftly forward, heading vaguely in the BLU's direction while staying away from open fire. His head throbbed and his legs shook. He could feel the blood pounding in his ears and was too aware of the way he was heaving for breath.

He was getting tired. Running around in a burning building was a good way to die. His brain screamed at him to get _out, _and suddenly he didn't care about BLU. He wanted _out _of this place before he suffocated.. Fear made his heart race, and he found the determination to keep moving. Despite all of the hot, painful light everywhere he felt like he was scrambling around in the dark. Verdammt, he did _not want to die! _

He stumbled over a dying woman, whose hair was wreathed in flames.

There was a metallic glint from somewhere nearby.

A giant person held it in their massive fist. A flash of blue on the person, an alien color in this hellish, flame-covered building.

Tossed the object. At the RED Medic.

The RED Medic kneeled and grabbed it. His bonesaw. He clenched his fingers around it.

Why had the BLU Heavy given it back? An apology? A bribe? Or merely because it belonged to him?

A choking scream interrupted his dim thoughts. He staggered to his feet, coughing madly. He was determined not to die. And not to let anyone else on RED die, either.

Acrid smoke burned the Medic's lungs and his eyes stung as he searched desperately for another mercenary. There was a panicked yell and someone fired a pistol from nearby- The Medic staggered towards it, hacking and coughing. Fear flashed through him- He could really _die _out here, for good. No Respawn out here. He stumbled out of the building through a window he'd shattered with his bonesaw. Smoke came pouring out from the window along with him, nearly suffocating him. At that moment he would've traded everything in the world for a breath of clean, fresh air. And a second later, he got just that as a giant fist larger than a baseball mitt scooped him up by the back of the coat. He shot a tired, relieved look at Engineer- who'd kept his cool, gotten out, and had fired the shot. Medic then mumbled a raspy thank-you to Heavy, who gently set the German man down. There was a long pause as they gazed with a shocked wonder at the flaming store. It'd grown eerily silent.

"Do ve go after dem? De people left inside?" Heavy asked. Medic shook his head, not wanting to tell him that most of them had probably perished already. And even if he could, his lungs were so ravaged he didn't think he could even if he wanted to.

The Engineer was standing above Pyro, a gentle hand on the fiery mercenary's shoulder. "Doc? You alright?"

"I nearly died." He wheezed. "So, ja, I'm fine." He felt disoriented, as though the world was larger than it should've been in some places and smaller in others. He didn't want to try to stand up.

"Doc, not t' force anything on ya, but can ya get up and get movin'? We don't want t' get arrested for arson. Those BLU bastards ran off with the van. Righ' now we need t' call the base n' tell 'em to come get us."

"It is already late." Heavy grunted, pointing at the sky. "Sunset is soon."

"Ach." The Medic grumbled. His head hurt. "Ve'll head on foot to ze nearest base and spend ze night." He gave a hacking cough that made his throat feel even worse. "I don't plan on waiting for zose dummköpfe. Let's go on foot."

"I'll help Pyro," The Engineer nodded. "He's broke somethin', Doc, but I'm not qualified enough t' say what."

"Vonderful." The Medic grumbled. "Ve'll heal him ven ve get zere, Engi."

The four mercs got up, the Medic being aided by the Heavy, and set off for the abandoned base.


	4. Hidden

Hidden

The men of RED were away, their animals gone as well. Quiet footsteps echoed off the walls in the narrow, small hallway holding the mercenaries' rooms. A small, slender figure was the cause. The man's shape seemed ever shifting, going from a dark red, to blue, to purple, to gray, all in various shades of incredibly dark. The hallway was only illuminated by the light of the moon from one battered window. His face blurred as shadows crept over him. The man continued at this slow pace until he reached the end of the hallway- Spy's room. The man withdrew two slender instruments from his coat and knelt, now eye-level with the lock on the door. He set the lockpicks into place, carefully listening for the soft clicks that would tell him he'd done it right. His slender, veiny fingers looked like they belonged to a corpse's hand.

The last click sounded sweetly and the man got up, setting the lockpicks back into a pocket on his suit coat. The man gingerly opened the door. His slender, scrawny frame shook and he grinned in triumph. Silvery white hair was illuminated from behind, from that filthy window.

The Spy's room, by all appearances, was empty. Nothing on the walls, nothing on the floor. Like it'd never been used.

The intruder's eyes swept the floor sharply. He gave a thin smile as he located an almost invisible wire on the ground. He didn't have the proper tools to disarm the cloaking device, but a knife would work just as well. He selected and carefully sliced the wire in two. The room flickered- once, twice, and objects suddenly appeared in small plumes of smoke. The room was still mostly empty, with only a large bed hastily tucked into the corner, a dresser, and a mirror above the dresser. At the ceiling was a lamp, currently off. From the bed, there was a flicker of movement. Small golden eyes looked at the intruder cautiously. The intruder smiled and beckoned to the eyes. A thin, jet-black cat sprung lightly from the bed and onto the wood floor. The intruder opened a small tin of sardines.

The cat's tail whipped up and it charged over to begin eating. The intruder's grin widened. He lunged forward, grabbing the cat by the throat and squeezing. The cat's jaw gaped silently and it struggled noiselessly, the only sound the intruder's grunting in pain and effort. The cat's fighting slowed until it went limp; the golden fire left its eyes and its head lolled awkwardly, its eyes glassy and cold. The stranger dropped it, letting the freshly dead animal slide to the ground in a black heap. The man rooted through Spy's belongings, growling to himself in wicked pleasure. He stopped after a few moments and gave a delighted, evil chuckle as he found a metal-covered briefcase beneath Spy's bed. The intruder- no, the _murderer, _popped it open. It was full of glowing golden bars, shining like dim suns. The intruder snatched one up in his gnarled, ancient hands, laughing quietly to himself in selfish, sick pleasure as he felt it, testing it carefully. There was a certain _warmth, _a hum of power to the golden bars.

The man stood up and strode out, cackling like a madman, clutching the briefcase to his chest the way a mother holds her child.

Spy snapped awake, fighting the urge to scream. He swore he could hear echoing footsteps and he lashed out blindly with his butterfly knife, which he snatched from his dresser. The cool blade handle was oddly comforting in his hand. He got up, heart racing and feeling like he was going to vomit. His eyes roamed around the room silently, looking for the tiny flecks of gold that would betray Hidden's location. He called the cat's name softly, hoping to God the cat would obey. The cat meowed back quietly and Spy slumped to the ground in relief. _Only a dream, _he told himself shakily, _Only a dream. _He didn't know who the intruder was, nor the significance of the glowing gold, but the intruder had rattled him badly.

He called Hidden again, trying not to do something stupid like cry in relief. The old, thin tomcat got up and padded over. Spy scooped him into his lap, stroking his fur lightly with his bare fingers. His heart was slowing and his fear and adrenaline were ebbing. Hidden _mewwwelll_ed and snuggled closer to Spy before sprawling out lazily. Spy gave a shaky chuckle and Hidden began to purr.

_Just a dream. _

(**Sorry for the short chapter, guys, but the next one is extra long and I'm done with it. I'll upload it tomorrow. Should go back to the 2-3 day schedule after the 5th chapter's release. Also- something I noticed. A _lot _of these stories have pets as minor plot points. And the next chapter has a ~spoilers~ pet as a major plot point. It's odd, really, I'm not doing it on purpose.**)


	5. Naked Tales of Valor

Naked Tales of Valor

"Lieutenant Bites, I swear to God I am going to kick your furry ass so hard my foot breaks off in your body!" The Soldier shouted from where he was sitting. He'd brought back his raccoon from Merasmus's castle while Sniper went to go get the battered Medic, Heavy, Pyro, and Engineer. "Lieutenant Bites, you put my shovel down right now, you overgrown rodent!"

The raccoon gave a cheeky grin and scampered under the stairwell, the Soldier's shovel clenched in his teeth. It let out a little chittering noise that sounded like laughter. Soldier clomped over, on his hands and knees, and tried to reach the furry little beast. It dropped the shovel and bit him. Soldier withdrew his hand, wincing, and shouted more threats. There was the sound of footsteps pounding on the stairs and the Scout came downstairs.

"Soldier, I know y' like screamin, but-" Scout froze. "You're… You're naked."

"The raccoon stole my shovel! So I took off my clothes!"

"That doesn't even make any…" Scout had disgustedly turned his head away. "Look, I don't need ta see your ass right now. I just wanted t' tell ya to shut up."

"Help me get this raccoon, Scout, or I will break your bones until you agree!" Soldier said. "We're both Americans, and that goddamn raccoon is a threat to our freedom!"

"Look, Soldier, I'd love ta help, but bein in with ya while you're naked is not gonna look good if anyone walks in." Scout sighed. "I'm the alpha male, man, and that means I can't be seen with naked guys. Ruins my chance at gettin' Ms P- I, uh, I mean, a date."

"But the raccoon-" Soldier protested, sucking on his bleeding thumb.

"Soldier, I don't care." Scout groaned. "Just shut up for longer than half a frickin' second."

He strode back up the stairs.

_What now? _Soldier wondered to himself. _I can brave these wounds, but Bites is too far under the stairs for me to reach him._ _Ah! I know, I'll get Scout, he's really small and he can fit under these st- _He paused for a second, then realized Scout had already denied the honor of helping him only a few moments ago. _Okay then, what about Medic? He can deal with animals, even if he is a Nazi…No, wait, he's still with Sniper and those other privates. I think it's just Scout, Demo, and me left here._

Well, crap. That wasn't fair. The Soldier got up. And that's when the raccoon bolted. The furry gray creature streaked through the open door, shovel still clenched in his jaws. The Soldier let out a ferocious war cry, shoving on his boots and adjusting his helmet before racing after the raccoon.

He paused for a millisecond when he realized it was colder than usual. No clothes on, he realized. No clothes meant more cold. Well, he'd survived worse when he was killing those Nazis in Poland. It was time to _get. That. Damned. Raccoon. _And his shovel.

He continued after it, streaking alongside the rodent. It gave a chattering little noise and waved its tail almost tauntingly. The Soldier gave a ferocious shout as he chased the creature back and forth, feet pounding over the ground as rain drizzled from the sky. Sawmill was a cold, rainy place, and as a result Soldier's entire body was soon wet with rain and sweat. The raccoon was tiring even faster than Soldier.

"You can go anywhere, Lieutenant Bites!" Soldier shouted. "I am American, and I have the freedom to go wherever you do!" The raccoon gave a shriek of alarm, scrambling up a log pile besides an ammo pack and a health pack. It gave a taunting squeal and raced away, kicking wood chips in the Soldier's face. The Soldier ignored them. They were only paper cuts compared to the time he'd ran twenty miles with his organs, only being held inside him by his quick wit and shovel. These tiny scratches were nothing to worry about. Bites raced through a narrow wooden corridor and beneath a small bridge-looking thing, treading water easily. Without even giving it a second thought the Soldier plunged in after the raccoon.

Oh, wow, was that water cold.

The Soldier gave a yelp of alarm, trying to jerk away. _Cold, cold, cold, cold, _his brain yammered. _Get out of the water, you idiot, or you're going to freeze. _

"Shut up, brain!" He said aloud, thrashing in the water and heading in the raccoon's direction. Goosebumps erupted on his skin and his entire body felt like it'd turned to ice. The raccoon swam much faster and much easier. It dived beneath the Soldier, bit his stomach and legs a few times, before doubling back and heading back for the RED base.

Soldier staggered out of the water, shivering hard. He ran after Bites, but the little rodent hooked his claws into the wood and scrambled up it, heading up to the wooden platform Sniper was so fond of shooting from. The thing dropped the shovel, hissed, and picked the shovel up again, sitting down and getting into a comfortable position. Soldier shook his fist at it, shouting meaningless threats. His index finger, stomach, and upper legs were bleeding, though not heavily. The cold water had managed to numb it so he didn't feel the pain, but he _could _feel the warmth of his blood as it traveled slowly down his exposed skin.

. . .

The BLUs heard the entire racket the RED Soldier was making.

"He's gone bloody mad," The Demo muttered, sharpening his Eyelander. "Screamin' ly' tha' this early in t' moarnin', whas he think he's playin' at?"

"Oy'll go take a look, oy guess." The BLU Sniper nodded, getting up from where he was sitting. He set his hand face-down on the crate they were using as a table. "Beats gettin' cheated boi Scout any toyme."

"I do not cheat!" Scout protested. "You just _suck, _that's all!"

"Roight." Sniper rolled his eyes. "Anyone else up for comin' with me?"

The Demo tossed down his cards, groaning at Scout, who'd just won. _Again. _

"Aye, I suppose I'll go as well." Demo got up off the crate he was sitting on and stretched. "Can't be any worse than loosin' to Scout six times in a row." He swiped his bottle from where it rested besides him.

Spy gave a little snort, leaning forward on his chair. "Why do we care what zat patriotic fool eez doing? It's not worth getting up over. He's an idiotic psychopath, zere's not much more to it."

"Spoy, you're comin' with us." Sniper said playfully. "And if ya don't want to, we're draggin' ya with us."

"_Mon Dieu, _what did I do to deserve zis?" The Spy muttered, getting up dramatically and stretching. "Very well, let's go. Ze sooner your curiosity is slaked ze sooner I can go back to pretending I'm not on a team with a group of imbeciles." The three left their respawn room and headed out, going for the main building with the currently deactivated control point. The saw blades, however, were still functional. The Spy gave an involuntary shudder, reminded of the time when he was backed into one. His flesh had been torn like tissue paper and clouds of blood had been thrown up from his body. The last sensation he had was falling forward- then the blade cutting his body in half.

They ascended the stairs, coming to one of the BLU Sniper's favorite sniping positions- a wooden bridge between one building and another, overlooking a pool of water and a roofed bridge near the RED's base.

"Oh." The Demo said softly as they saw the RED come out of the water, dripping wet and with several wounds to the stomach and legs.

"Moy." Sniper breathed, disgusted but unable to tear his eyes away.

"God." Spy finished.

There was a long, almost hilarious silence as the RED screamed something about "Lieutenant Bites".

"He's naked." The Australian said, looking very, very disturbed. "Woy is he _naked?!"_

"How the bloody hell should I know?" Demo hissed back, relieved when the Soldier went out of view.

"I suggest we leave." Spy muttered, looking a little more red-faced than he usually did. "We're in RED territory right now."

"R-roight." Sniper nodded and the three BLUs glanced at eachother in silent agreement. "An' we never tell the other's 'bout this, roight?

"Right." Spy nodded, and the three moved on.

. . .

The raccoon was taunting him now. Doe was sure of it. It'd purposely climbed to the top of the building, where he couldn't reach. "Dammit, I can't believe I was outsmarted by a pile of fleas!" He fumed.

And at that exact moment, the Medic, Pyro, Engineer, Sniper, and Heavy drove back to the base, getting a full, detailed view of the Soldier's naked body.

Sniper slammed on the breaks instinctively, looking like he'd just seen a ghost. The Medic looked more furious than embarrassed for the Soldier. The Heavy hadn't even seen and the Engineer had taken just one quick look before grabbing Pyro and turning him around, before doing the same himself.

The Soldier was trying to figure out how he could lure Bites down when a booming, furious voice suddenly yelled at him. _"You idiot!"_Medic shouted, shoving Soldier inside roughly. "It's cold, it's vet, und _you're outside, completely naked and drenched in freezing water! _You could get _ill, _Soldier, and I cannot fix illnesses ze same vay I fix vounds; und even if I did fix it for you, you'd be bedridden for several days!" The Medic jabbed a finger at his chest. "_Und you're bleeding, you dummkopf! _Go to ze infirmary. _Now."_

The Soldier opened his mouth to defend himself, but the Medic practically shoved him towards the Respawn room. "Ve need to get back to ze rooms," He grunted, looking around before locating a small teleporter leading to their permanent living quarters; they never had to pack any items and move from room to room. They only ever had to bring the teleporter. He pushed Soldier onto the teleporter, and the naked, bleeding mercenary vanished in a pillar of pinkish-red light. The Medic stepped into the teleporter, waiting for it to recharge. He suddenly convulsed, coughing hard. His esophagus burned again and there was the horrible, now familiar feeling, of his throat and lungs protesting to the burns they'd received.

The raccoon flicked its bushy, ringed tail, baring its teeth in a grin. It scampered forward as soon as the tall healer was gone. It bounded onto the teleporter and disappeared quickly.

The Soldier grumbled to himself as the Medic grabbed his arm and pulled him along, grumbling something about idiots on his team. The Medic unlocked the doors and sat Soldier down, his actions in harsh, swift movements. "_Sit still, Soldier," _He growled, draping a cloth around the Soldier's legs as he sat him down in one of his uncomfortable infirmary chairs. He took a little while in getting the Medigun, stopping to gasp for breath.

"You okay, private?" The Soldier questioned. The Medic nodded silently, stooped over. Soldier frowned. Lying was an insult to him, and Medic was clearly doing so. He examined the Medic by looking at him. Semi-shaking hands. Looking more jumpy than usual, yet still looking exhausted at the same time. A haunted look in his eyes.

"Doc, could you help me get that raccoon?" Soldier asked, wanting to ask just what'd happened to frighten the regularly unshakable doctor. "He stole my shovel."

The Medic held his head still and slowly began to pluck shards of wood from the Soldier's face. "No- I've been zrough a long day, Herr Soldier, and I vant to get some rest." He grumbled. "Ask Scout to do it; he's faster and more nimble zan I, anyvay."

"He refused to help me." Soldier explained.

"Right." Medic said, trying to concentrate on a bit that'd been caught beneath the skin. He used the tweezers to brush away the small flap of skin and get the little bastard splinter beneath. He plucked it out and set it on the white tray besides him. He took off his glasses, polished them, and moved on to Soldier's thumb, carefully examining the injury and writing down the details on a sheet of paper besides him. He growled softly, crossing off German words and re-writing in English just in case someone like the Administrator or Ms. Pauling wanted to see them. They routinely came for a look every month or so, just after his physicals. "Und vy vere you naked?"

"The raccoon was naked and it outsmarted me. So I took off my clothes to see if it helped."

"Und did it?" The Medic prompted, dabbing at the blood with a cloth. His voice was that of a person talking to an idiotic child.

"Well, no." The Soldier admitted in a sotto voice.

"Zen put some clothes on before you freeze to death, dummkopf." The Medic barked. He grabbed a needle and surgical thread and began stitching some of the more savage bites together, grumbling something. He still looked uneasy to Soldier, but he brushed it off as mere nerves.

"So, Doc, how soon can I be out and chasing that raccoon?"

"As soon as I'm done," Medic grunted. "Und I vill make Scout help you if you vill stop bozzering everyvon else." He cut away a final strand of the thread and nodded. "You may go, Soldier. But _don't_ get bitten again."

"Thank you, Doc." The Soldier nodded and jumped off the chair, leaving the towel behind. Medic grunted, turning and washing blood off his gloves. _This week could not get any worse._

. . .

"Scout!" Soldier's knuckles rapped on Scout's door. "I demand you get out here and help me get that raccoon right now!"

"Why don'tcha just shoot the damn thing?" Scout groaned. "I'm fuckin' busy, Soldier!"

"I demand you do this now, or I will break my foot off in your ass and mail my foot to your mother with your ass still around it!" Soldier threatened. There was a brief, quiet pause, then the sound of Scout's footsteps approaching the door.

"I swear to _God, _if you're naked I am closin' this damn door right in your face." Scout warned. He opened it and looked relieved. "Thank god, you put some clothes on. Alright, I'll help you get your damn raccoon. Where is it?"

Soldier paused a minute. "Well, it should be back at the Sawmill."

"Should be?"

There was a quiet pause, almost a thoughtful one. It was quickly shattered.

From downstairs came a ferocious scream, full of rage. "_Oy am going to chop off your bloody head and turn you into a stew, you bloody son of a bitch!" _There was a suspicious thunk that sounded like a large knife being slammed into wood. Scout and Soldier exchanged a glance and raced downstairs, finding Sniper downstairs in the kitchen, clutching Spook and looking furious.

"How the bloody hell did a _raccoon _even get in the base?" Sniper fumed, staring at his knife, which was still embedded in the dining table.

"He's Soldier's raccoon, Sniper, an' we need ta know where he went so I can get back t' what I was doin'." Scout explained. The Australian gave a growl.

"That little bugger tried to _eat _Spook!" Sniper turned to Soldier, his face red with anger. "Oy want an apology, he nearly took Spook's bloody leg off!" The little creature was dramatically sprawled on the Sniper's shoulder, limps splayed. One of them was jaggedly bitten, holding on by only a few strands of skin. It tilted its head slightly, looking up at Soldier reproachfully with both eyes. It gave a quiet, high-pitched chirp, snuggling more closely to Sniper's neck.

"My condolences, Sniper." Soldier said patiently. "Now where did that raccoon go?"

"Headed for the infirmary. Maybe Oy'll get a shot at the wanker when I get Spook fixed up."

"Ah crap." Scout gulped. "Soldier, if he kills any of Medic's birds, Medic is going tokill_ us._ He's gonna take his bonesaw and stuff it down our throats."

"We're faster than Bites, son, you'll see." Soldier said confidently, and the three headed back downstairs.

The Medic turned on heel as the three mercinaries burst in. He held a tray up delicately, lungs delicately placed on a white towel. _His own lungs. _The Medigun was lightly wrapping him in its warm mixture, enriching his blood with oxygen without the use of lungs. He cocked his head as he saw them. Speaking would use up too much oxygen, needlessly forcing precious air out; and the medigun was at a steady rate. He couldn't just take in more.

"Hello, Doc," Soldier nodded. "Bites attacked Sniper's lizard. He's going to be a sub-lieutenant at this rate."

The Medic gestured to his lungs, open chest cavity, and the small scalpel besides him. _I'm busy. I can't help right now, _his gestures said.

"Can ya fix Spook's leg 'er not?" Sniper asked impatiently. The Medic flicked his hand and pointed at a chair people waited at when they were in linea, then to Spook, then to the counter. He cast a worried look around the room and whistled. Six or so solid white doves fluttered from various areas and landed on a metal perch nearby. The Medic swiftly counted and went back to work. He lightly sliced his lung with the blade. He turned and made a "shoo" gesture at Soldier and Scout.

"Do we check th' infirmary?" Scout whispered to Soldier. "Do you s'pose your raccoon got in here?"

Sniper gave a yelp from his chair, the chameleon's tiny claws suddenly squeezing his fingers. "Wot the _hell _is your problem?" He asked her. Her eyes swiveled, both roving to focus on a dark shape near the doorway. The raccoon, realizing it'd been spotted, reared and gave a chitter of alarm. Medic grunted, wiping away blackened bits of tissue he'd removed from his lung. He gave a gesture to Soldier, Scout, and Sniper, clearly meaning _wait, _and focused the medi-gun on the lung he'd been preparing. It regrew cut off portions. He casually stuffed the finished product into his body and set the medigun to full blast. As soon as his lung was reattached, he took a deep breath.

"Breathing again," He moaned. "Feel great." He turned to the Soldier and Scout, who were creeping over to the large ring-tailed rodent. "_No, you idiots!_ Do not try and catch zat zing in _here! _Zere are delicate instruments!" He glared at them.

Soldier pounced at the creature and Scout shoved the infirmary door open. The raccoon fled through the door and Soldier caught Scout's legs, sending them both to the ground.

The Medic growled, turning back to his other lung while the Soldier and Scout tried to get up. The Sniper was fidgeting impatiently, wanting desperately to return to the hunt. His silent anxiety was really, really irritating, and he grabbed the tiny lizard and held her under the medigun beam. Bones knit together, then coils of muscle and tendons, before finally scales re-fused. The Sniper grabbed her, plopped her on his shoulder, and gave the Medic a nod of gratitude before rushing out.

"Zat man is a little too obsessive over his animals," He muttered to himself, lightly caressing one of the four doves now comfortably perched on his head and shoulders.

Sniper hurried out to join Soldier and Scout, who were actively pursuing the raccoon. He notched an arrow and let it fly. It whistled past Soldier and Scout and slammed into Spy's bedroom. The group hurried past the other mercenaries'' rooms. Their boots and shoes pounded on the wood. Another arrow knocked. He fired and the arrow clipped the raccoon's back, tearing off a small chunk of skin and a bit of fur. It gave a squeal of pain and sprinted towards the teleporter.

"Do not let it get-" Soldier began to shout, but broke off when it leaped onto the teleporter and vanished. They waited for a tense few seconds as the teleporter recharged. "You're first, son, you're the fastest." Soldier nudged Scout forward.

"Loyke hell he is!" Sniper spat. "Oy'm going first and oy'm going to spear it between the oyes." He withdrew and arrow and set it snugly into the bow.

"Negatory." Soldier said promptly. "We're not killing Bites. Scout is first." He shoved Scout in casually. Sniper gave an irate snort. Sniper went through aftereward, Spook along with him, then Soldier.

As Soldier shook off the red haze that filled his vision, the first sense he regained was hearing. And what he heard was Scout screaming, Sniper yelling, and Bites squealing. Scout had his arms around the furry creature, and it was clawing his hands, jaws still clenched stubbornly around Solly's shovel. Sniper was yelling at him to grab the bloody shovel and let the raccoon go. Soldier hurried over and Bites broke free, swerving sharply and scrambling up Scout's body to grab his hat. Bites flopped to the ground and raced away. The Sniper fired another arrow, which landed in one of Bite's feet. The creature gave a shriek of pain, tearing it out and fleeing. It scrambled through the bars of the gate and raced down the sloping hill for the woods. Its blood was left, smeared on the bottom bar.

"Get that little bastard!" Scout shouted furiously. "Sniper, stop firin' warning shots and get him! Just lookit him, he thinks this is a fuckin' game!"

"Stuff it, mate!" Sniper barked harshly. "He's a lot smarter, smaller, and faster than most 'a the things I've ever killed." They ran down the stairs and opened the fence gates. They dashed through, heading down the hillside onto a small, rough path. Rain drizzled lightly from the dark clouds. The pine forest was peacefully silent, the only noise the rain and the mercenaries. The Sniper instantly picked out raccoon pawprints in the damp earth after a few minutes of walking. He kneeled and examined them a little more closely. "The pawprints are deeper in the front, implying this guy was either puttin' all its weight on its front paws or carryin' somethin' heavy."

"That's our raccoon," Soldier confirmed. They followed the tracks carefully, Sniper in the lead. "But we'll need a plan."

"Oy'll catch that little bugger, skin him aloive, and use tha rest for soup." Sniper growled. Spook shifted on his shoulder, huddling closer to his neck. She tightened her grip and her tail. Sniper briefly rested his jaw lightly on her back affectionately. Scout made an exaggerated gagging noise, casting his gaze elsewhere.

Sniper shot him a glare and he shut up.

They moved on.

It'd been a _long _walk. Thirty minutes, to be precise; with Soldier humming battle songs, Scout moaning over his lost hat, and Sniper sharpening an arrow. Then the raccoon stepped over to them, jaws empty, and staggered over to Soldier dramatically. Bites was coated in mud and his paws were bleeding. He collapsed tiredly at Soldier's feet.

The game of keep-away Bites had been playing with the mercenaries was over; he was too battered and tired to continue.

Soldier scooped the raccoon up, lightly tousling the fur on the top of Bites' head as he cradled the creature to his chest. "Now, Lieutenant, where did you put my shovel?" He asked, his voice still rough but lacking the harsh edge it normally had. He moved on to lightly rub the raccoon's belly.

The creature gave a tired sniffle, nipping at Soldier's blocky fingers. The American continued to stroke the creature idly, ignoring the little bites. He turned to face the Sniper and Scout.

"Men, I have no idea where Bites put our gear. But he is going to lead us there or I will be putting him on latrine duty. Got that, Bites?" He rubbed the creature a little harder for emphasis.

"As soon as he gets yer stuff back, Oy'm going to stab him 'till he runs outta blood." Sniper grumbled threateningly, leaning against a tree trunk. Soldier gave a little huff, drawing the rodent closer.

"I will not tolerate infighting among my ranks," Soldier said strictly. "You and Bites will become friends or I will ram my boot so far up your ass you could feel it in your throat!"

"Sorry, Boites." Sniper said patiently, without a hint of sincerity in his voice. "Oy didn't mean it." Soldier seemed to be satisfied with his false apology and the group departed. Soldier fashioned a makeshift leash from old, frayed rope he'd stolen from the base. He tied it around the masked rodent's neck and set the creature on the ground. The raccoon scuttled off and the mercenaries stopped as they came upon a dark, dying meadow.

Over half a dozen wolves prowled, circling the meadow and pressing their dark, cold noses to the earth. Hunting for Bites or other rodents that had passed by. An insane, excited grin appeared on Soldier's face and he gestured silently to his shovel and Scout's cap, which were both lying in the grass near the far right of the meadow. The Sniper examined his quiver worriedly. He'd only brought six arrows, and one had already been wasted on Bites. He set an arrow gingerly in the bow and Soldier let out a ferocious scream, charging at that very second. The Sniper flinched and the arrow flew, hitting the ground besides one of the wolves. The Sniper gave a hiss of annoyance and drew back, watching the Soldier as he readied another arrow.

The wolves turned, swiveling their heads and letting their golden eyes fix on the Soldier. Soldier tackled a wolf and snapped its neck easily, howling in delight. It managed to savage his arm before it died, leaving his jacket and some of his flesh in shredded ribbons. Another wolf howled nearby, lunging at Soldier and grabbing him by the back of his shirt. The coat and rest of the shirt fell to shreds under the wolf's gleaming fangs. Soldier let out a yowl of pain as more began tearing into his body.

"Help me, maggots!" He howled to Sniper and Scout, kicking a wolf hard in the jaw. He spasmed in pain and punched another hard in the snout. His entire body felt like it was on fire, and his brain was starting to feel foggy. Scarlet blood seeped from his body freely. He was bleeding to death. _Dammit. _

There was a loud crack and one of the wolves' teeth released him. A wolf bellowed challenge to Scout, who'd struck it hard in the head with a rock. It staggered around in drunken circles. The wolves abandoned Soldier, perhaps believing he'd bleed to death. Or maybe they were angry at Scout. Either way.

Soldier did a quick count. Two dead- the one whose neck he'd broken, and one with an arrow sprouting from its neck. The one Scout'd attacked was on the way out, collapsed in the grass and bleeding heavily from above the eye; twitching occasionally.

Soldier got up. His clothing was in rags, only a handicap now. He flung off the tattered remains of his clothes. Sniper let out a startled screech of alarm, and there was a_ tunk _as he fell out of the tree he was perched in. Scout let out a gargled scream, possibly at the sight of Soldier's naked body, possibly at the wolves rapidly approaching. Soldier staggered for a moment, wondered why his body wasn't obeying him, and remembered he was dying of blood loss. He tore a small strip of cloth from his jacket and tied it around the worst wound, one around his calf, which had been so badly gnawed that it went bone-deep.

"_**Let's grapple some damn wolves!**__" _

Scout and Sniper had both overcome their shock. Scout was rapidly tossing as many rocks as he could at his pursuers. Despite their speed and agility, Scout had "intelligence" on his side. He scrambled up steep piles of rocks scattered around the meadow and tossed rocks hard at the wolves until he ran out. Sniper couldn't get a steady shot and didn't want to waste a precious arrow. Soldier was now locked in mortal combat with a wolf, laughing a deep laugh as a wolf attempted to lop off his arm with its powerful jaws. He punched the creature hard in the nose and it yipped but didn't let go. Soldier gave an impressed laugh and continued attacking harshly, beating the wolf's skull with his fists.

Scout had taken two wolves down- the one laying in the grass had stilled and a particularly stupid wolf had persisted on attempting to get his leg. Scout had smashed its head hard with a rock and it'd gone down with a spatter of blood and a satisfying crunch. A wolf lunged and Scout yelped as he lost his handhold and slid down the boulder he'd perched on. He screamed for help, but Soldier was preoccupied – "_Damn it, that's my last remaining arm bone!" _–and Sniper was yelling for a wolf to hold still.

Scout let out a screech as the teeth bit into his leg. Sinking past the sock and into the flesh, past the gastrocnemius and into the thin fibula. Then through the fibula, crushing through his leg, attempting to cut the leg off at the calf. Scout let out an agonized, terrified scream, but the wolf went limp and its ferocious yellow eyes lost their lifelike look. He was barely aware of the arrow severing its brain stem and the sharp tip that had gone through its throat.

It was caught by the teeth. Scout pried its jaws open, trembling hard and breathing shaky curses. He kicked the wolf off him, whimpering in pain and gazing in shock at the giant puncture marks on his leg, oozing blood freely. But he had two more wolves to deal with, both tilting their heads and showing their teeth. Tails erect, muzzle down, and its fur bristling like a cat's. A low, thundery growl drifted from their throats.

Soldier popped up behind one, laughing like a maniac, and tackled a wolf, his body coated in a thin layer of blood, rain, dirt, and sweat. It yelped in surprise then went for the Soldier's bare chest, fangs awkwardly slamming into his pectorals. Soldier easily snapped its neck and turned to wrestle the last one. The final wolf was staggering over to Soldier, an arrow lodged in its flank and one in its neck. It gave a final, rumbling growl, and then collapsed to the ground in front of Soldier. Its eyes glazed over and reflected the cloudy sky.

Bites squeaked in delight, his bushy tail whipping back and forth like a dog's. He barreled over to Soldier and showed a smart-ass grin. Soldier nodded, grinning, and fell to the ground, blood pouring from many awful wounds. Scout and Sniper glanced at eachother in disgust, perhaps wondering whether it was worth attempting to save Soldier's life if it meant they had to drag the newly unconscious man all the way back to base. While he was _naked and bleeding to death, _no less.

Sniper sighed. "Wouldn't be the worst thing we've ever done, Oy s'pose. C'mon, Scout, we gotta get this wanker back to Doc."

"But he's totally _naked,_" Scout protested. Sniper silenced him with a glare and they both grabbed him, Bites flitting at their heels, squeaking away and being irritating. He raced back and fetched Soldier's shovel and Scout's hat. He offered it to Scout, who took it and gave a "hrmph" as he put it atop his head. They had a long, awkward walk ahead of them, mostly in silence. There was about ten minutes before someone gave an attempt at conversation.

"Scout, 'ow's your leg? Should be hurtin' loike hell, Oy'd imagine." Sniper said, unable to bear the lengthy silence.

"Can't feel it. Some kinda pain reliever or somethin' mighta kicked in." Scout said, his voice shaky. "Doc's gonna _butcher _us when he realizes what we've been up to."

Sniper gave a snort of agreement and they fell into silence. They trekked back to the teleporter.

"Soldier first?" Scout asked.

Sniper gave a grim nod and they plopped his motionless body on top of it. He was encased in a swirling cocoon of pink light and vanished. Scout shoved Sniper aside and went next.

Sniper adjusted Spook's position on his shoulder and lightly nudged the raccoon forward with his shoe. "You're next, you little wanker," He told it. It gave a little hiss and scampered towards the teleporter. Sniper gave a deep, tired sigh and stepped in after the raccoon.

. . .

Exhausted. He was bloody exhausted. Sniper staggered upstairs, grunting softly to himself, and collapsed onto his bed. The bed wasn't exactly warm, but _God _it was comfortable. Sniper gave a little groan into his pillow and wished that today had never happened.

He had about thirty minutes before he heard first of Soldier's laughs.

He gave a little grunt of annoyance, pulling blankets over himself and setting Spook on the ground. When they'd gotten back, they'd were too late and Soldier was heading to respawn by the time they got him to Medic.

The Sniper yawned and cracked his neck. It was probably nearing noon now. Wearily he staggered to his feet and headed out the door, knocking on the wall outside Spy's room.

Spy came out, looking haggard, and the two men trooped to Sniper's van in silence.

Then, "Where is your chameleon?"

(Thank ya'll for 700+ views!)


	6. Answers

Answers

The morning was still. Quiet. Small drops of water were scattered on the grassblades outside. The only sound was soft patters of rain from the forever cloudy gray sky. A small robin flew overhead, its bright orange-yellow belly the most vibrant color in this hazy gray morning. It darted through the air to perch on a pine stump, closing its eyes and fluffing up its feathers.

The rain slowed to only a light drizzle, only occasionally plopping to the gray-colored earth. The robin tilted its head up thoughtfully in the direction of the RED base, perhaps knowing what was to come. But it could've just seen an insect or other bit of prey. It gave a soft little call and fluttered its wings. It flew off into the forest.

The RED Medic strolled down the gray dirt pathway outside his base, feeling a small knot of anxiety in his stomach. Anxiety was a different kind of fear than anything he'd experienced before; it was intense worry, squirming right in the center of his gut. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. He wanted to pursue the BLU Heavy, question why he had given the bonesaw back. This question haunted his every waking moment. It was driving him _mad, _and he couldn't stand it.

He paced anxiously until his boots were covered in mud and dirt, until he had carved a small path with his troubled marching. He was snapped back to reality when a raindrop struck his forehead. He shook his head lightly, getting back into focus. He'd had a… troubling last few days, what with his kidnapping and Soldier's wounds. Bites had been locked in Soldier's room ever since yesterday, when Soldier came back from respawn after bleeding to death.

Why was his mind so wracked with nervousness and fear? He'd dissected himself before, or at least attempted to, and he'd found it fascinating. But as soon as another glove, one of BLU's color, had touched his skin, he felt physically ill. Maybe it was a fear of being helpless or vulnerable. He wasn't a powerful person and his weapons were mostly healing oriented. This made him weak; easy prey, provided a stronger mercenary wasn't around. He _hated _having to rely on someone else to protect him, and he relished any unaided kill he got.

Healing, however, whether with a medigun or surgically in his infirmary, was actually a pleasing experience. Bringing a man from the brink of death back to a state more powerful than a regular man could ever be was _exhilarating._ There was an insane rush, a rush of power that came with übercharges; a surge of strength that made him want to howl from the beautiful joy of it all.

He headed inside, the light sprinkling of rain growing heavier. He heard the call of a bird from the forest. He decided he was tired, even though his mind was pestering him with those troubling questions. Maybe breakfast first? He shook his head again, a little more wildly this time. Focus, Doctor, focus.

Medic stepped into the base, wearily climbed the stairs, and headed to the teleporter. Would Engie or Pyro have made breakfast by now? He didn't really _care _what it was at this point, it could've been nothing but the plate and he would've eaten it. His stomach growled loudly as if to emphasize his point. He stepped into the teleporter and reappeared back at the dorms. He called it his home. It was the place he was most comfortable. He'd never felt to at home in a place, even as a child in Stuttgart. But this place had his "friends", a beautiful infirmary, and so many opportunities to just _be himself. _Do whatever he pleased, whenever he pleased, with no repercussion.

He headed for the kitchen, stomach growling louder, pleading for food. He changed course swiftly and stepped into the dining room, a rather nice name for a place that more or less looked like a small, filthy cafeteria. He was surprised to see nearly everyone congregated there. Only Pyro and Engineer were absent, although Spy was not eating. He was leaning against a wall, his glance was cast away from the other mercenaries, perhaps off in thought. Medic could tell something was wrong, even if Spy regularly acted like this. It was the haunted look in his eyes, the same look his own eyes carried whenever he looked into a mirror.

"Doktor!" Heavy called in greeting, waving. The Medic groaned internally and headed over. He liked Heavy just fine, but right now it would take all of his willpower to try to be sociable. He was sitting with Soldier and Demo, who were having a lengthy talk about which exploded better: rockets or grenades. Soldier claimed his were more accurate and did more damage, while the Demoman claimed the opposite.

Scout was blabbing to Sniper at another table, and Sniper was pointedly ignoring him. He was, instead, watching Spook chase down a cockroach in the corner of the dining hall. Her long tongue _whapped _and slammed into the large insect before withdrawing her tongue and the bug into her throat. Sniper snickered to himself and continued with his breakfast, munching on toast and drinking coffee.

Medic joined Heavy at the table, his eyes briefly sweeping over the selection of food. Despite his hunger, just _looking _at food made him queasy.

Soldier and Demo got up angrily, and went to another table, still yelling at eachother, leaving Heavy and Medic alone.

Heavy set down his fork and knife, looking concernedly at the German man. "Doktor? Are you okay?" He asked. "You have acted strangely since BLU attacked us."

"Ja, I'm okay," The Medic said distractedly. "I've been fine. Just busy." He offered a grin. Heavy didn't seem satisfied with Medic's response, but he dropped his gaze back to his food and continued eating. A tussle had broken out between Demo and Soldier, wrestling across the table. _"Say they explode better, maggot!"_ Soldier howled, holding the Demoman in a firm headlock and tightening his grip. Medic gave an exasperated sigh and got up, mentally preparing himself for dealing with his idiotic coworkers.

He patiently told Soldier to let Demo go. Soldier refused and Medic called heavy over. Heavy, at Medic's request, pulled Soldier's limbs apart and Demo wriggled free. The Demoman took a deep, strong breath and shot Heavy a grateful look. The Soldier and Demo turned to glare at eachother in silence. Heavy brushed the two men aside and both he and Medic strode back to their table.

They sat down and continued to glare. Spy left the dining room silently and Sniper soon excused himself as well. Scout drifted over from his now-empty table to Soldier and Demo's and began blabbing something undoubtedly stupid to them. Medic got up and was ready to leave himself but a gigantic hand grabbed the back of his coat and forced him to sit down.

"You have not eaten." Heavy grunted. "You von't leave until you eat." His voice was forceful, almost threatening, but not quiet. The Medic felt a prickle of annoyance and a chill of fear. He felt like arguing but instead sulkily moved toast and sausages onto his plate. Heavy gave a little snort and Medic realized acting like a moody child would not help in this particular situation. He poured himself a cup of coffee and he realized that eating breakfast and dealing with the other mercs had been a wonderful distraction from his worries. As soon as he thought this, however, his anxieties returned to nag him.

He glanced at Heavy as soon as he'd finished everything, then got up and departed. The Heavy didn't try to stop him this time.

Medic briefly considered heading to the infirmary, but he ignored the thought and headed to the showers. He stripped, stepped in, and let the hot water flow over him. He closed his eyes in thought. He didn't want to think about this now, but the thoughts popped in intrusively. He ran over everything he knew about the RED Heavy and tried to transfer it to the BLU's. If the situation had been reversed, what would _his _Heavy have done?

The same thing? He didn't know.

Damn it, he hated not knowing.

Sometime later, maybe ten minutes after he first got in, he was aware of someone else entering and showering. By sound he tried to recognize which stall and came to the slow conclusion that it was Spy's. Which was very odd, considering Spy had already showered before breakfast.

The Medic shut off the water, his train of thought broken. He dried himself off and got dressed. His suspicions were correct. It was Spy's stall.

The Medic frowned and ruffled his hair. It wasn't even half dry and was already sticking together in water-slicked clumps. He gave a tired sigh and went upstairs to bed. He flopped down onto his pillow and gave a little groan as his back let out a little crack. He closed his eyes.

He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but he found himself in a dream.

He was a rotting corpse, with insects feasting on his spoiled, half-decayed flesh. They tickled and hurt at the same time as they sunk their tiny teeth into his body. He wanted to cry out in pain but there was only laughter. His jaw ached from laughing so hard, extending to inhuman lengths and rising to desperate, howling shrieks of insane mirth. The laughing hurt his ears as it grew steadily louder.

He heard thudding footsteps.

There was a flash of sky blue.

A glimmer of hope appeared in his rotted brain.

The hulking BLU giant kneeled beside the RED Medic, silent and stony. He withdrew the RED's bonesaw from his belt and carefully slit the RED's throat. His own blood welled, spilling over his pale neck, but also got in his throat- his blood filled his mouth and lungs yet he continued laughing, bloody foam and froth forming at his lips. In the dream, he gazed desperately at the BLU as he slowly drowned in his own blood. The dream faded to black and there was only hot white pain in his neck.

The Medic woke up to a horrified scream and realized it was his own. He slammed his jaws shut and sagged forward, sitting upright. He blinked, panting hard and shaking lightly with fear. A few moments later he heard boots pounding against wood and there was a loud knock at his door.

"Doc?" The Engineer called, sounding concerned. "Ya'll right in there?"

"O-of-of course." His voice sounded breathless and shaky, even to himself. There was a quiet, almost thoughtful pause, and the sound of the Engineer's footsteps as he walked away.

He couldn't stand it anymore. The waking world held the question he'd been longing to ask the BLU Heavy for three days, and he could tolerate not knowing. Just barely, but he could tolerate it. But he couldn't stand dreams making reality a hundred times more horrifying.

He _needed _to speak with the BLU Heavy. Even dying was preferable to being plagued with these anxieties and worries. He glanced at the clock. Must've been two in the afternoon.

He got up, pacing. Excitement and adrenaline coursed through him now that his mind had been made up.

How best to break in? Surrender himself, question the Heavy, and escape? He couldn't take their teleporter without being a BLU…

He gritted his teeth and ran a hand through his hair worriedly. If he was caught, they'd torture and kill him. He could stand being tortured and killed; he died on a daily basis and he was able to tolerate extreme amounts of pain. But if the BLU Medic wanted to experiment on him, he'd gladly commit suicide before allowing it to happen. Best go unarmed, even though he wasn't much of a threat when armed. He would put a cyanide tablet in the breast pocket of his coat just in case he was caught and was thrown to the BLU's doctor.

He tried to calm his fluttering excitement. The adrenaline was making him irrational and his anticipation was making himself nervous. The most likely outcome was his death, yet he remained eager to get moving and get this over with.

He preferred the churning excitement to the slow, simmering worry.

All that was left now was to wait.

The Medic went down to the infirmary, humming loudly to himself. He couldn't help hum as he tidied the small messes and finally organized the various organs in his fridges. The Spy's head was curious at this, making a casual remark at the Medic's mood shift. The Medic only gave him a grin as he threw out slightly rotted organs he'd meant to throw out for months. He would feed them to Bites.

"Zat's strange," The Medic murmured to himself. "I had a perfectly good Lochness Hamster and fish organs. Where could zey have gone?" He pawed vainly at the area he thought he'd left them, but they did not appear.

The Spy's head stiffened, but it went unnoticed by the Medic. The Medic had moved on to Sniper's severed arm. He burned it to ashes and continued with his filthy work.

Animal parts were missing, even entire rat bodies. The amount was so great he couldn't have merely misplaced them but so small that he wouldn't have noticed unless he was doing a great cleaning.

The Spy's head looked down nervously and it didn't go unnoticed.

"Has someone been stealing ze items in zese fridges?" The Medic questioned the head suspiciously.

The Spy shook his head silently. "I cannot say who." He refused to speak further on it.

The silence was uneasy for a long while, with only the occasional _squish _and _squelch _as he inspected his stock. He checked the clock and blinked. Four hours? It didn't feel like he'd been sorting through his fridges for four hours. He finished up with the last bit he had to sort and wondered if he should bother to go to dinner. Heavy would probably make him, anyway. The Heavy actually _cared, _something both strange and kind.

Wearily he reached to put the Spy's head away, then reconsidered. He could use the Spy to get through the teleporter. His eyes sparkled and widened. Why hadn't he thought of this before? He grinned at the Spy and left the head on his desk before racing to dinner.

The room was dead silent except for the clink of silverware on plates. Not even the Scout was talking. He walked stiffly to sit by the Engineer and Heavy. Spy was absent, unsurprisingly, and the other mercenaries cast furtive glances at the Medic.

Unease crept through him as he cut a tender slice of pork for himself.

Silence. Dead silence. Only _clink, clink, clink _on the plates as the mercenaries ate. He enjoyed the silence even if it was unsettling, and ate his meal, until the Sniper spoke up.

"Doc, what were ya screamin' about?"

Murmurs rose up at this, mostly along the lines of agreement.

"Nozzing," The Medic said, looking baffled. "At least, nozzing you all need to vorry about." He hastily finished everything else on his plate and headed back to the infirmary. Six fifteen. Six hours, at least, until he would get an answer to the question that'd been nagging him for three days. Anxiety flared up again.

The Medic breathed deeply, trying to calm his jittery, shaky nerves.

"Smoking helps," The BLU Spy said casually. "But you may tell me of your troubles, if zat will make you feel better."

"I'm breaking into ze BLU base," The Medic blurted breathlessly, worriedly drumming his fingers against the desk. The BLU Spy stared in disbelief, jaw hanging open.

"You're breaking into my team's _base?"_ Spy said, every word full of anger.

"One of your people has information I vant. But I'll be unarmed, don't vorry." Medic said softly.

"And what could warrant such a-" The Spy started to say furiously, but the Medic shushed him.

"Are you going to help me or not?" The Medic said, his voice cold and soft.

"Of course. I won't have much choice in ze matter, anyway." The Spy growled.

"Vill you stay quiet?" The Medic asked. "It is of the utmost importance I do not die, at least until _after _I've completed my goal."

"I will stay quiet." Spy grumbled reluctantly. "It will be good to get out of zat refridgerator and zis lab," He added to himself under his breath.

"Good! Ve leave in about five and a half hours." The Medic grinned and departed, leaving Spy's head on his desk.

The Medic headed upstairs, humming cheerily to himself. The plan was falling together. The worry was soon going to be nothing but satisfaction once the simple question stopped hounding him. His humming blossomed into full-blown singing once he got to his room, some powerful song in a strange blend of English and German. He hardly bothered to pronounce the words, because they weren't important- the message was. And the message was all about raging satisfaction at the end of a hunt.

A song to sing when victory is assured.

Over and over he sang, until he was left gasping for breath and panting. Briefly he wondered if he'd gone mad. Well, he already knew his was insane, but this was just silly. Getting so worked up over something seemingly insignificant.

He flopped to the bed, kicked off his boots, and closed his eyes. His throat hurt and his chest burned. Quickly sleep claimed him.

His sleep was seemingly dreamless. It appeared to be seven or so PM and when he opened his eyes again it was one in the morning. He jolted up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He shoved on his boots and headed back to the infirmary. Spy's head stared at the doors expectantly as he marched in.

"Have a nice rest?" Spy's head was wry and annoyed, perhaps bitter he was no longer able to sleep. The Medic nodded and picked the head up by the metal collar it was attached to. He smiled to the head, a wide grin, and left the infirmary with the head tucked to his chest. He headed to the teleporter room, his grip getting firmer. The Spy grumbled something moodily in French as the Medic stepped in. The two vanished in a shining red-pink pillar of light.

It was bright in the Respawn room, the lights still on. Outside, wind howled and a large rumble signified thunder and lightning. As the Medic stepped out, it became pitch black. Not a single light was anywhere. Rain poured down from the sky and thunder rumbled loudly. A brief flash of lightning lit up the surrounding area, then returned to the inky black night. The Medic looked determined. There was no way _weather _would stop him. He withdrew a pale, sickly green lantern from his belt. He and the BLU's head moved on.

"I von't be bringing you into ze base. Nozzing past ze teleporter room, just in case you don't keep your vord." The Medic said, his voice almost apologetic. "Archimedes and my ozzer doves vill bring you back to ze infirmary."

The Spy nodded boredly. He had long since accepted his fate as the Medic's project/assistant.

They arrived at BLU's base. The Medic headed into their respawn room. It looked surprisingly like his own and he blinked momentarily at this. It was like he'd gone in a circle and had returned to his own base.

But the teleporter was blue.

The Medic stepped in, praying this would work. There was a soft whine from the teleporter. The column of blue whirled around him, and both he and the Spy's head were transported in a flash of sky-blue light. He blinked. He was in their dormitory now. The teleporter room was quiet and peaceful, rather warm and silent other than the quiet, calming hum of the machinery.

He gingerly set the Spy's head on the teleporter. The Spy gave an almost sympathetic look, then disappeared in a small burst of light. The Medic waited a few moments to see if the birds had actually taken Spy's head back. A few minutes passed and he was confident they had.

It dawned on him. With Spy's head gone, he had no way back.

He fought the rising panic in his chest and took a deep, steady breath. He walked out of the teleporter room and straight into the lion's den.

He tried to stay as quiet as possible. Nothing stirred as he went on his way, carefully avoiding creaky floorboards or anything that would give his position away. He slipped open the BLU Heavy's door. It was silent- on well-oiled hinges. He wondered now, how best to wake the Heavy without waking the others.

It wasn't necessary. As soon as the door shut, the Russian sat up. His eyes locked on the RED's.

"RED." The BLU said simply, tilting his head questioningly. "It vas very dangerous to come here. I could keel you vithout trying." He blinked. His gaze traveled across the Medic's body. "You're alone? Unarmed?"

"Ja." The RED whispered. "I zought it best."

"Explain vy you're here."

"Vy did you give me back my bonesaw?" The RED asked, his voice trembling with real fear and anticipation. He wanted to know, so very badly. Every little agony he'd felt ever since he'd escaped the flaming building came rushing back to him in a brilliant burst of emotion. "I have to know, Mikhail, I _have _to. Please."

The Heavy flinched at the use of his name, but after the RED was done, he tilted his head thoughtfully. He seemed to be honestly considering. The Medic waited, trembling harder and harder. Adrenaline, fear, anticipation, excitement, they all surged around his body like waves in a hurricane. _Why, why, why? _He wanted to scream. _Hurry up and answer me! _

"You reminded me of my doktor." The BLU rumbled finally, an amused smile forming on his lips. "Scared. Veak. Uncertain. And you vere dying. For good, dis time. And although you are my enemy, I couldn't vatch my doktor die vithout doing anything about it."

"I- I- I am your enemy," The Medic stammered, caught off guard. "You know ze difference, you've killed me before."

"Dis time you vould stay dead." His eyes were sharp and severe. His words were spoken without a trace of emotion. "How vas I to let you die? I know my doktor, and so I know you. You're a copy of my doktor to every detail. You acted like he vould. Defiant. Sullen. Desperate. Hiding behind your copy of me to let him take the vorst, but hating doing it." His small eyes twinkled coldly, and it felt like someone had rammed an icicle into his sternum. "I know my doktor's deepest thoughts and desires. You are not different than him. And dat is vy I gave your bonesaw back."

The Medic was staring at him in undisguised shock. He'd never considered that the BLU Medic would confide anything personal to anyone else. He himself certainly hadn't. Confiding someone or telling Mikhail, _his _Mikhail, of his darkest secrets and sudden urges had never occurred to him; and even now as he thought of it, didn't seem sane.

It came to him suddenly, just why his BLU counterpart had done this; the BLU's were fierier, quick to get things done and rather upfront. Both their personalities and combat reflected this. In contrast, the REDs were more guarded and defensive of their secrets and personal selves. It was only a subtle difference, but it became as clear as day when he actually took the time to consider it.

"You risked your life to come here," The BLU said shortly, interrupting the Medic's frightened, confused revelations. "Vas dis one act really veighing upon you so heavily?"

"Yes." He whispered, feeling numb and stunned. The relationship that the BLUs had chosen to pursue was just _strange. _He didn't want to think about it anymore. An intrusive thought popped to mind over and over, even when he tried to shove it away.

_You and Mikhail could be like that. _The thought whispered. _No secrets from each other, intimately bonded… _He could feel himself flush with embarrassment.

"I had to know." He insisted faintly, more to himself than the BLU Heavy. "I had to know, I had to." He turned to the BLU Heavy and took a deep breath.

"Kill me."

The BLU jerked back in surprise. "You- you vant me to- vat?"

"I can't leave." His voice came in a weak, wheezy chuckle. "I can't go back ze vay I came in. Ze easiest, quickest vay to get back now vould be to die." He was starting to feel physically ill, his stomach churning. "I got vat I came for. Now I vant to leave, und I can't do it vithout your help. I have no veapons to kill myself vith."

The BLU nodded, looking uncertain and sad. His eyes glimmered briefly, shining with pity, and the Medic felt overlarge hands close around his neck. He wanted to scream for the Heavy to stop, his brain cried out in protest against dying. He didn't scream. All that happened was the muscles in his neck became taut. There was a sharp jerk and a sickening crack. He heard himself begin to scream and his hearing, sight, and touch were cut off abruptly along with his other senses. With his last shred of consciousness he tried to cut off his scream. He was dead and silent long before he hit the ground.

Respawn. An infinite black void where he was weightless, like he was swimming in air. There was no light, but he could see everything as though there was. In the distance, far off, a white blob formed. As it moved closer, the Medic could make out feathers, wings, and a long, slender neck. It flew swiftly, twirling and gliding on invisible winds. The dove came in for a landing, its large wings beating powerfully. It had an unusually broad chest and large, intelligent black eyes. The dove gave a mournful coo and glided carefully onto the Medic's bare shoulder. The dove nuzzled his jaw with the side of its head softly. The dove's body was warm, its body temperature higher than a human's. This creature felt like flesh-and-blood. His entire body tingled with warmth and he felt slightly emotional. His earthly troubles were forgotten and he stared lovingly at his first dove.

"Leonardo." He breathed, stroking the dove's head, neck, and back. The bird scrunched up its eyes in contentment and stretched its neck, letting out a pleased murmur. Fifteen seconds was all he had with his dead bird, and he'd used up most of it. He let Leonardo perch on his fingers and he gently rested his lips on the bird's head before pulling back to whisper a promise. A promise that he'd return soon. The bird's head bobbed and its body slowly turned to white mist and scattered in every direction. The Medic finally woke.

He was standing upright, alert and refreshed, and tried to keep the rapidly fading memory of Leonardo. The Respawn had the dead in it, and they cropped up whenever the mercenaries entered. They waved, said hello, and dissipated into colored mist that vanished as it traveled in every direction. Along with his dead doves, his mother and father were frequent visitors. They never stayed long or spoke to him, but they looked proud.

Various others appeared, those who he'd loved and lost. There weren't so many.

On rare occasions, it showed his idea of his own personal heaven. And he had fifteen painfully short seconds of happiness and love, of doves and warmth. He briefly wondered whether the void was part of the machine's work, or whenever he went through respawn he was really on the threshold of the dead's world. Well, either way, dying was not pleasant; but running through respawn was the closest to heaven the mercenaries would ever get.

He briefly thought of the other reason he'd requested the BLU Heavy to kill him; because he needed a shot of the bliss respawn brought before dealing with the truth.

The Medic slumped to the ground, weary and unable to find the will to move.

He had his answer.

God, he hated the answer.

. . .

The Spy slunk into the Medic's infirmary, making certain that everyone else was already at dinner. He gave his BLU counterpart a nod.

"Top shelf, zird refrigerator, to ze left. He just organized zem today." The BLU Spy said casually. "I'd be more careful with your thievery if I were you. He was starting to suspect."

"Zis is all I can do," The RED said, desperation and guilt heavy in his voice. "You understand, you had your version of Hidden, too."

"Except my Hidden died ten years ago." The BLU said, bitterness hard in his voice. He carried on, his voice less cold now. "He still has a surplus of freshly dead laboratory mice. Do not take eizer of ze first two, zey're injected with some kind of toxin. Ze rest have God knows what sewn into zem, but nozzing dangerous."

"Thank you." The RED Spy gave a genuinely kind nod and retrieved a dead rat from the back row. He turned to the BLU, holding a rat by the tail. "Shall I light zis for you?" He asked, referring to the unlit cigarette in the BLU's lips.

"I'll need it. Ze RED Medic plans to do somezing undoubtedly insane tonight, involving breaking into ze BLU base, and a little smoke would not go amiss."

The Spy blinked briefly in surprise. "Do you know wh-"

"I'm not going to elaborate furzer." The BLU said curtly. "Light ze cigarette."

The RED obeyed and rushed upstairs, rat still in hand.

The Spy slipped into his bedroom.

Hidden, scenting the freshly dead creature, bounded over, mewing in excitement and curling his tail.

"Yes," Spy whispered softly to the elderly animal, stroking the dark fur with a gloved hand. The cat's pink nose flared. "Yes, it's another zing from Medic. Zere's just no suitable food I can get zat won't raise suspicion. Zis is the best I can get; I'm sorry."

The cat let out a complaining _mew, _nudging the rat closer to himself with his paw. Hidden bent his head, tail curling in delight as he dug into the creature's cold flesh. Spy flicked on the lamp and sat down heavily on his bed, considering the dream that was plaguing him. A cloud of silver hair on the stranger, but otherwise bald. Ancient, aged fingers gripping the gold-colored bars- he'd long since decided it wasn't really gold due to the unnatural glowing.

Another thing was reoccurring- Gray. So much gray splashed everywhere in the dream; on the walls, on the floors, even Hidden's golden eyes turning gray. The dream came frequently now and the intruder was always wearing gray. He always strangled the life from Hidden's body. The gray man was the bane of his existence.

Whenever the dream came, he was always afraid that when he woke up Hidden would be sprawled out on the carpet, his last breath spent.

**_Twenty Years Ago…_**

It was a cold Christmas morning. Just a few months ago it'd been Spy's twenty first birthday.

A small child brushed by him, marveling at the mounds of snow that had piled up in the street's gutters overnight. Spy ignored the child, like he usually did. He wore a suit just a shade lighter than black, a briefcase in hand as well. The briefcase carried his regular revolver and knife. He'd been hired to kill some man, popular among the people and a favorite in a presidential race.

He couldn't give less of a damn who the man was. He was a target to be exterminated, and afterwards he'd get the money for the job.

He'd killed the man without difficulty and was on his way back home. There wasn't even a spatter of blood on his perfect, crisp suit.

As he walked past an alleyway he heard a thin, angry growl bubble from somewhere beneath a battered crate. Normally, he would've just kept walking, but he was interested now. He walked over and tipped over the crate with one foot, exposing the occupants.

A filthy, ragged-looking cat with its third eyelid drawn up. It practically oozed illness and its body was undoubtedly riddled with parasites. The Spy flinched in disgust and drool hung from the hideously ragged creature. She had a shallow wound on her flank and flies buzzed around her. Spy grunted. Suffering was everywhere, especially on the street. It wasn't his job to care. He turned and was ready to walk away.

There was a quiet, thin mewl of complaint.

Spy stopped and turned.

A single kitten was curled against the ill mother's belly. Small, thin, looking like nothing but a patch of fur. And it was as dark as midnight. Spy took interest. Spy took pity. For some insane, strange reason, the new adult took pity on the tiny scrap of fur. It looked helpless, like his victims, but something reminded him of _himself. _

Claws slashed and Spy winced as they raked his extended fingers. He shot the wounded, dying mother a look. He withdrew his revolver. There was no saving this creature now, best put her out of her misery.

But her weak, little child was different. He could be saved. Spy pulled the trigger and there was a small spatter of blood. He felt nothing over her death. He'd saved a weak, dying mother pain. There was nothing he could've done to save her. Best prevent suffering. He made up these excuses as he took the black kitten from his mother's corpse.

He took it home with him. He knew how to feed this little beast from a combination of watching his childhood pet, Lily, feed her children, and from his mother feeding his baby brother so long ago. He gave the little creature a bath and held it to keep it warm. He persisted in taking care of it with minimal knowledge, and was actually a little proud in his efforts. He didn't give the wee creature a name until a night of a new moon, where he scrambled around in the dark and could find the little feline. And as soon as he was found, the Spy dubbed him _Hidden. _

**_Six Years Ago… _**

"I've been hired for a new job, Hidden." He told the jet-black tom, who gave a lazy purr and butted the Spy's palm with his head. "Ze pay is excellent; but I'll be gone for a long while. I can't have you with me, and I'm sorry for zat. You'll be well taken care of by my mozzer, I promise." He gave the cat a friendly scratch behind the ears and Hidden meowed, flicking his tail. Spy picked up the old tomcat and cradled him to his chest. "You won't see me again, most likely." He gave a chuckle. "You're already so aged it's a miracle you're still alive at all. Fourteen years we've been together."

Hidden meowed again, his golden eyes glowing warmly.

"Yes. I'm going to miss you too."

**_Six Months Previous…_**

Spy was at his mother's grave, dressed in all black. He lightly tossed a collection of brightly colored flours. Her grave was out in an open field, and at night the heavens glowed brightly with stars and the moon glowed beautifully. This was only a mile out from his childhood home. With her death, he had no family.

Except Hidden.

The old tomcat was still alive. Almost twenty years old and he was still as fit and nimble as he was when he was only a year old. He was scarily thin, but through many years Spy'd come to learn that Hidden just never grew fat. He could eat, and eat, and eat, but he would always stay lean and tall.

He had Hidden beside him now, on a leash like a dog.

Hidden meowed and swiveled his head to look up at Spy in complaint.

"Grumpy old grand-père." Spy murmured. Hidden might act as fit as a young cat, but his attitude was rather elderly; grumpy and cranky early in the morning or when he had to go a long distance. His statement wasn't far off- Hidden had sired grandchildren by now, and was probably a great, great, great, great, great grandfather somewhere down the line. "My mother is dead and you can't even sit here for a few minutes?"

Hidden meowed again.

"Zere's still a problem." Spy murmured. "I don't know where to put you. I don't have family left to watch over you, and zose idiot mercenaries I work with would hurt you. You're old." He scooped Hidden up lightly. "I guess I don't have a choice. I'll take you with me, okay? I'll be there when you…" He swallowed the words that were beginning to take shape. "Pass. But you're my secret, Hidden. We can't let anyone know."

Irrational thinking. Why would the other RED mercenaries care if Spy brought an ancient tomcat with him when he returned from paying his respects?

That didn't matter.

Hidden was meant to be a secret, as he had for twenty years.

And he was going to stay hidden.

**(Ffffuuuck, this was one hell of a doozy to write. Questions have been answered! Questions have been raised! Ships have been sailed!) **

**(And on a side note, thank you all _so _much for over 1000 views. Holy hell, I never even dreamed I would get close to that many!) **


	7. Foes, Friends, and Filing Cabinets

Old Foes, Friends, and Filing Cabinets

"Help." Scout squeaked. He was actively being crushed by a filing cabinet. He struggled beneath the cabinet and let out a yelp of frustration and anger when it didn't budge. "Someone help me, dammit!" He shouted.

Technically, this was his fault. He'd been downstairs, heading for the break room. The break room sat on the same floor as the kitchen and dining room, which was the ground floor. It rested at the first floor along with the teleporter room, the showers and bathrooms, and a large laundry room. (In addition to cooking most of the meals, Engineer and Pyro washed all of the clothes except for Spy's. God knows what he ate or how he got his suits cleaned.)

Beneath this floor was a basement, which was Medic's large infirmary. And above the ground floor were all of the mercenaries' rooms.

Scout banged on the filing cabinet with his fists in frustration. He'd just wanted to play cards or talk with one of the other mercenaries, he didn't ask for a freaking filing cabinet to fall on top of him.

"Move!" He commanded the cabinet. Needless to say, it did not. He ground his teeth in frustration and tried to lift it up, using all of his strength. "HELP!" He howled furiously.

There was noise from upstairs; so far away it was just a low, annoyed tone rather than speech. Scout supposed it was probably the other mercenaries wondering if they should actually go see why he was making all that noise. He felt a stab of anger and felt more determined to push this thing off himself.

Bites trotted by nonchalantly, giving a little chitter of greeting as he passed Scout and headed into the break room.

"Come back here ya furry bastard!" Scout called after the raccoon furiously. It did not obey Scout, needless to say.

"Leetle Scout, what are you screaming about?" The Heavy grumbled from upstairs, and there was the sound of heavy boots as he came down the stairs. He paused when he saw it- Scout pinned beneath the filing cabinet and looking furiously after the raccoon. "How did dis happen?" He asked incredulously.

"Does it matter?" Scout demanded, face red. "Just lift this goddamn thing off before I'm crushed or somethin'!"

"No. I guess not." The Russian grumbled, kneeling. He gave a grunt of effort and lifted it off Scout, propping it back up against the wall. "Do not get trapped under cabinet again. I von't help you next time." He said bluntly, getting up and heading back upstairs.

"Jeez," Scout mumbled, staring at his retreating back. He got up, wincing at his hurting lower body and crushed ribs. "People 'round here are jerks." Bites skittered back, a bag of chips in his teeth. He sat down next to Scout and waved his tail. Scout liked to think it was in agreement. "I mean, what's goin' on around here? Doc's been actin' weirder than usual, and Engineer says he went through respawn yesterday night." He laid back, briefly pausing to wonder.

The raccoon bared its fangs at Scout, giving a hiss and scampering off with his chips.

Scout snorted. "Animals round here ain't friendly either." He muttered to himself, getting up and dusting himself off. He headed to the break room, where he found the Demo, Spy, and Sniper playing poker. The Demo had evidently just won, as he was cheering and pulling the pot towards him.

"Aye told ya gamblin' against me gets ya nowhere, lads," He added to them. Both Spy and Sniper were grumbling to themselves, casting their gazes away in disgust and discomfort.

"Well, zis was a disappointment." The Spy commented under his breath. He leaned over to Sniper, his expression something intense, and growled, "Zat was ze last of the money we made from robbing zose smugglers." Sniper looked away uncomfortably, not wanting to be reminded. "I told you we shouldn't have bet so much."

"An' Oy told you we shouldn't 'ave gambled at all," Sniper shot back grumpily, looking at his feet as Demo chuckled and took another swig from his bottle. "But you had t' keep goin' on- 'Oh Sniper, ya'll win, he's just an idiot d-'" Spy shot him a harsh look and the Demo interrupted them by suddenly noticing Scout standing in the doorway.

"Ahhh- Scout, c'mere an' get yer arse dominated." Demo beckoned to the small merc with a finger, hiccupping softly. "God knows aye need someone else to beat, 'cause these two couldn't play poker t' save their lives." He offered an indistinct, drunken grin.

"You guys lost to him? He's so drunk he prolly can't even see the cards!" Scout laughed incredulously at the arguing duo in front of him.

"You try it, mate!" Sniper snapped hotly, running a hand through his hair. Spy tugged awkwardly at his collar and his gaze settled somewhere around Scout's feet. "It's not as easy as it looks, Oy promise."

Spy got up abruptly and tossed down his cards. "We're leaving now, I expect," He said, his voice carefully controlled. "Isn't that right, Snipeur?"

"Absolutely." Sniper responded roughly, getting up. The two hastily retreated, heads bowed in embarrassment at their defeat.

"So, Demo," Scout turned to the mercenary after the two had gone out of sight. "How much didja win, anyway?"

"Not much, a thousand or so," He responded blearily, fanning bills out on the table. Fifties and hundreds. "Dunno where they gottit from, but it's a nice li'l sum."

Scout nodded vaguely in agreement, sitting down and looking around. "I'd kinda expect Soldier or Engi t' be gamblin', not those two." He informed Demo.

"Eh? Oh, Solly's upstairs or somethin', said he had somethin' to deal with." Demo nodded. Scout blinked and everything seemed just a little too quiet afterwards.

Sinister, quiet silence.

Then an explosion, quickly followed suit by a deadly aftermath.

There was a loud rumble, and everything started shaking. As though an earthquake had begun. Scout's body jolted around the room, slamming painfully into the floor and all around the room. The Demo let out a shout of panic, getting up and tucking the money he'd won into a satchel at his side. He clutched his bottle and his brown eye was wide with shock and fear.

The Demo was catapulted through the air, slamming into a crate shoulder and back first. He gave a breathless cry of pain and didn't get a moment's pause before the earth spasmed again, tossing his body like a rag doll. Both he and Scout were helpless as they were thrown around the room, smashed into walls, floors, crates, tables- and even the ceiling. There was a brief pause, only seconds of rest, where Scout asked if Demo was alright- Demo gave a breathless groan of pain before being interrupted by another round of shaking.

Scout gave a wail of fear as the tremors hit again, but harder. He was immediately slammed against a wall. There was a sickening crack as his ribs broke like eggshells on the cold concrete. He tried to wheeze for breath, but could only weakly spit up blood. Hot pain roared down the right half of his torso and in sickening fear he realized his arm was also throbbing in horrible, unimaginable pain.

Arm snapped. Ribs snapped. It hurt so damn badly. Scout gasped for air and the earth slowly subsided. Everything became quiet and still.

Demo was unconscious, eagle-spread on the ground. Blood seeped from his fingers where his glass bottle had shattered and pierced his skin. Scout wanted to get up, but any more movements would just be agony. He lay still on his back, small, ragged sobs of pain escaping his throat. He didn't feel any better until five or so minutes, when endorphins flooded his system. The agony faded to a steady throb of pain.

"Demo," He said hoarsely, feeling blood trickle down his lip. "Demo, man, you gotta get up. I ain't draggin' yer ass all the way to Doc, got it?" He staggered over to the Scottish man. "Demo, c'mon, yer not dead…" Not good. Demo was incapacitated, but not dead, which meant that he was going to be out of the fight.

Oh yes, there was going to be a fight. That was no natural earthquake. Too powerful, too long to be a real quake. Scout had endured at least a minute of being tossed around like a ragdoll. He adjusted the Demo's position so he was lying down a little more comfortably and stumbled out of the break room.

Bewildered, frightened, and agonized shouts came from somewhere above; the most clear the Medic's- full of awful, awful pain. Scout raced upstairs, a slight tremble running through his body. The Doc could withstand anything. He was real good with pain.

It'd grown silent upstairs, except for muffled gasps of pain from the Engineer's room. The door was slightly ajar and fingers reached out, slightly bruised.

"Engi-!" Scout breathed, rushing over. "Truckie, are you awright?"

The Engineer's head slowly tilted up to look at him. "Scout-? Boy, what's goin' on?" Engineer wheezed. "And I'm fine. I'm more worried about Pyro."

"Mumbles is prolly fine, hardhat, but somethin's goin' on. You're real smart, so maybe you can figure it out." Scout urged.

"Cain't walk." The Engineer wheezed. "I don't even want t' think of walkin' right now."

"Hardhat, I'll go get Medic. Keep thinkin' on what coulda caused this." Scout brushed away and forced Medic's door open. The doctor was lying in a crumpled heap beside his bed, on his side and lying in a sort of c shape. His leg was twisted harshly to the side, badly broken, and it didn't take a genius to figure out he was probably bruised and bleeding internally. Blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth and pooled lightly on the wood floor. He was motionless and Scout feared he'd end up like Demo. But he gave a little hacking cough, spitting up both saliva and blood.

"Doc! You're alive! Demo's hurt an' he won't get up, Engineer's legs are messed up-"

"Scout, shut up," The Medic gasped, pain coursing through his voice. "Your voice hurts me even vorse zan my broken legs. Listen to me closely, Scout. Go downstairs und fetch my medigun. Everyvon has to be at zere best for vat I believe is happening. I just hope Soldier delays him for a vile yet." His nails dug into the floorboards in brief agony. "Quickly!" He urged in a raspy, desperate whisper. "Und ven you give it to me, join Soldier outside." He raised a weak arm and dug into his jacket pocket, before flinging out the key to the infirmary.

Scout gave a nod, wondering just what in the name of hell was going on. He stumbled downstairs and unlocked the infirmary door astily. It was quiet, dark, and oddly comforting, even if it was freezing cold. Evidently the shockwave that had battered Scout so had not made its way down here. Everything was neat, in order, the same way it always was. He shook his head and tried to focus. Where was the medigun?

He didn't know the Doc's lab very well, so this could take a while. He searched high and low and rooted through cabinets and cupboards. "Where the _hell _does Medic keep this thing? He shoulda said somethin' about that!" Scout complained shrilly, opening a large cabinet.

"To ze left, you imbecile! Move to the left, you won't find it zere." A voice said from somewhere in the room. Where? Scout couldn't say.

"Spy?" Scout asked in surprise, looking around for him.

"I'm on ze desk, you idiot, don't bozzer looking for me. No time waisting." The French voice snapped impatiently.

Scout screamed as he located the BLU Spy's head sitting in the darkest, furthest corner of Medic's desk. "Ohmygodohmygodohmygodyou'reaheadwhatthefuck!?" He cried, springing back in shock and nearly breaking one of Medic's chairs.

"I am ze RED Medic's assistant or experiment, depending on your point of view." The BLU said impatiently. "But nevermind zat, you are looking in ze wrong place for ze medigun. Check ze closet in ze back room- besides spare lab coats you will see ze überpack and medigun. I am assuming zat Medic is wounded from ze magic I felt a moment ago?"

"Magic?" Scout breathed. "Whaddya mean, magic?"

"It's a prickling sensation on ze skin. Raises hair, sends shivers down your spine, whatever." He said impatiently. "I was not affected by whatever broke your ribs because I was down here. Safe."

The Scout blinked, staring openmouthed at the talking head.

"Don't just stand zere! If ze Medic sent _you _to do somezing, we must really be in trouble. Get ze medigun and go." The Spy said dryly.

Scout gave the head a brief nod, still weirded out by it, and raced over to the cabinet. He flung open the cabinet doors, shoved aside lab coats, and grabbed the device from where it was sitting on a shelf. He raced out of the doors, locked it when Spy reminded him, and headed upstairs to see Medic.

Medic was clearly unconscious now, eyes shut and his breathing slow and ragged. Scout shook him harshly, knowing that probably wouldn't help, but the Doc _had _to get up. Everyone was down now, and whatever had done this could easily finish them off now. "Doc, c'mon- y' can't leave me all alone here, look at me! I'm injured an' stuff and all you can do is sit there!" Scout said, wanting to scream in frustration. The pain was beginning to return, too, and in panic he flipped on the medigun.

Relief filled him as smooth waves of red washed over his wounds, straightening broken bones and refitting tissue. It abruptly cut off after a few moments- leaving him mostly unhurt except for a canvas of bruises on his shoulder and ribs.

"Come on, you hunk 'a junk," Scout cursed, jabbing it with a finger. The Medigun would not operate. Scout gave a muffled curse and left the medigun by the Medic. He obeyed the Medic's instructions and went outside.

Dark clouds rippled across the sky, thunder booming loudly and malevolently. Greenish lightning fenced through the sky before each powerful thunderclap. The Scout peered into the gloomy badlands. It was dark out here- not as dark as night, but still rather dark. Green light exploded again and the Scout realized it was not lightning. It was something much, much worse.

Merasmus.

And Soldier, too.

The Soldier and Merasmus stood opposite eachother, staring into the other's face with undisguised fury and rage. Soldier with Bites clamped onto his pack, and Merasmus wreathed in a cocoon of sickly lime-colored light. The wizard brandished his staff, swiping it in a powerful slashing motion in front of Soldier. The tip erupted with greenish yellow sparks that sizzled into darkness upon contact with the ground.

Soldier snarled at Merasmus, baring his teeth. His body was stiff and his jaw was clenched as he stared up at the ghost. His jaw was tight with anger and annoyance, and beneath his helmet his eyes were angled angrily as well.

Merasmus's ghostly green body glowed ominously, and his eyes were narrowed in deep hatred. "_Soldier. I am going to kill you and everyone in this building. And when you come back, I'll kill you again_." Merasmus's green eyes glowed in savage, cruel delight, and he let loose a deep, pleased laugh that bordered on insanity. "_I'll kill you as many times as I feel like killing you!_"

Scout had heard these grim promises before, but he felt a sharp shiver run down his spine. Merasmus meant it, and with all of the mercenaries on RED crippled so badly, he and Soldier did not have a chance.

"_Dammit, Merasmus, I am going to rip off your head and crap in your stupid h-" _Soldier began. Merasmus swiped his staff hard, light radiating from the tip. A brighter green than lime, nearly yellow. Soldier was hit hard across the chest by the staff. The Soldier gave a shout of pain, spun on heel, and collapsed to the ground.

Not good. Not wanted to scream. Merasmus had toppled Soldier, _Soldier,_ in one blow.

"_Soldier, I hope you honestly realize what you've done._"Merasmus's voice was a quiet, sotto tone, but still cocky and full of arrogance. "_You've doomed everyone you care about._"

Aw crap, aw man, aw god, aw jeez… Scout was freaking out. Nothing but him and Merasmus, and Merasmus was not known for being the gentlest of souls. He gave an involuntary shudder and Merasmus turned to Scout, horrible green eyes blazing. _"You! You're the Scout, the little fast one. I know you well, the weakest, the smallest- I have a special plan for you. I don't want to spoil it for you, but it involves books, bombs, and dying for a wizard's entertainment."_

Rather than even think about facing the problem, Scout ran like hell back towards spawn. His feet kicked up plumes of dust and thudded steadily on the ground as he sprinted towards the base.

Merasmus gave a wicked, horrible screech and it felt like Scout's ears would burst. He glided along after Scout, his ghostly, tattered robe waving and whirling as he moved.

Merasmus kept up his awful screech until Scout felt his ears would bleed. It became unbearable rather quickly and Scout would rather have died than listen to it for this long.

It suddenly became quiet, and immediately after he was aware Merasmus was snarling in pain and anger. Merasmus turned to see who'd challenged him.

Medic was kneeling above Soldier, the medigun whirring comfortably in the German's hands. The Soldier gave a soft gasp, his eyes snapping open. He got to his feet and swiped his rocket launcher from the ground, glaring furiously at Merasmus.

Scout felt a little breath enter his chest and depart. Both he had stopped on heel and was staring at the two. Merasmus had stopped, but Merasmus wasn't looking at the Soldier or the Medic. His eyes were focused on Scout, his face grim and full of fury, and both of his hands were on his staff as he swung it down, heading directly for the Scout's skull.

The little details suddenly popped out vividly. The lines of anger and worry etched on the Soldier's face as he watched Merasmus swing his great staff. The desperation and pain on Medic's. The firm, powerful grip he had on his medigun, the red light whirling from it and repairing Soldier's battered body. The crack in Medic's glasses. The glow Merasmus was casting. The gnarled, swirled texture of the staff. The dirt and dust streaking the Soldier's rocket launcher, the sweat pouring down his face, the dust clinging to his clothes- everything stood out immediately in the split second before Merasmus's staff slammed down on his head.

Scout crumpled. The world was spinning, faster and faster, until he felt he couldn't keep up. There was a brilliant flash of green and yellow as magic and rocket were both launched, then a little burst of white-hot cinders as they collided. Scout tried to get up, feeling faint. His head hurt. A lot. It wasn't blinding pain like he expected, but he could barely keep his eyes open. His brain was foggy. He groggily tried to reach a hand to touch the top of his head, but couldn't. He dimly heard a scream of defiance and rage. Yes, Soldier needed help, Medic needed help, Scout was gonna… Scout was gonna help, he had to…

His head collapsed against the dirt.

_Respawn? Was this Respawn?_ Scout wondered. It felt like it; black void, strange pleasurable sensation. He was sharing respawn with someone else, as well. He looked over vaguely in the Demoman's direction- The Demo was laughing and talking to some tall, proud-looking black man. His dad? Scout didn't know.

Scout let out a brief, soft sigh. Why would Merasmus do this? Why here? Why now?

_Scout…_ A familiar female voice whispered from somewhere nearby. _Scout, get up, your team needs you. _

_Pauling, I died. I'm dead. I can't do anything about this. _Scout responded helplessly, shrugging. _I really wish I could help them, but that stupid wizard bastard clubbed my frickin' skull in. I'm dead and stuff, I know the drill. _

_If you're dead, _the Announcer's staff member asked slyly, _then why can you hear me? I'm not dead, certainly not. _

_Uh… Cause, uh… _Scout tried not to think too hard. It hurt to think too hard, especially in the vague, dreamlike world of respawn. _Well, I dunno. _

_It's the wizard, dummy. He's messing up the respawn machine, messing it up with magic. I'm part of your subconscious, I think, not the real Pauling. But, look, that's not important. I'm here to tell you something important, so listen to me, Scout. _Her voice became stern and serious. _Unless you put a stop to it, you're all gonna die. And Merasmus can just teleport you all away and kill you for good._

_What?! No, I did not sign on board for that! I can't die, I can't! _Scout protested. _My Ma needs the money I get, and… And I just don't wanna die, is that so wrong? _

_Scout, just get up and help your friends. _

The voice swirled and faded.

The black lifted and Scout gazed tiredly up from where he lay on the ground. Soldier and Medic were still defying Merasmus, Medic crouched on the ground behind Soldier, effectively using him to soak up all the damage. Soldier was rocket jumping through the air to avoid Merasmus's attacks and occasionally firing one of his own. Merasmus let out a shriek of pain as a rocket collided with his chest. "_Stop jumping around!"_ He shouted furiously, raking his staff through the air.

"No!" Soldier shouted back, a grin on his face as he flew forward to Merasmus and whacked his head hard with his shovel. Merasmus let out a howl of pain and his staff connected with Soldier's side. Soldier went flying to the ground, but righted himself and landed on his feet. There was a little crack and his ribs were righted by the Medigun. The Medic gave a nod of encouragement to Soldier, who stood up and grinned.

"You can't run from me now, Merasmus," Soldier growled. "I am going to kick your ass all the way back to hell."

_"You cannot withstand me long, Soldier- the people who could save you are all dead."_ He taunted, slamming the butt of his staff to the earth. The ground cracked and a plume of hot green fire rolled out before turning into smoke. _"Once your Medic is gone, you'll die. And I won't have to worry about you ruining my life anymore."_

Soldier let just a tiny hint of nervousness show. He swallowed deeply and tugged Bites off himself. He set Bites down on the ground and nudged him away with his foot. Bites blinked at Soldier for a moment in bewilderment, but scampered off after the Soldier nudged him harder. Scout wondered _why, _just for a moment, and it suddenly hit him.

Bites would not respawn if he died.

Did Soldier expect death, then?

Scout tried to get up, but the world rocked and shook. That was beyond his dizzy, disoriented depth. He gritted his teeth and was frustrated he could do nothing but lay there, feeling worthless.

Merasmus's staff swiped at Medic hard, slamming the doctor into the rock face beside the base. He bounced off hard and lay in a crumpled heap.

Only Soldier left.

They were trusting everything to Soldier?

Goddammit.

Soldier flung himself through the air, coming to land harshly on Merasmus's chest. He slapped Merasmus with his shovel harshly and the wizard let out a screech of pain, punching Soldier off him.

Soldier didn't even flinch. He hit Merasmus over the head with his shovel, howling like a maniac and grinning. He hit harder, harder, harder, harder, and Merasmus let out an unearthly, ferocious scream, his body suddenly glowing a brilliant, impossibly bright green that nearly blinded the Scout and probably blinded the Soldier. Soldier let go, thudding to the ground. He lay for a moment, before slowly getting to his knees.

"_You fool!_" Merasmus thundered.

"I can't see!" Soldier shouted in panic, staring in horror at his hands. "I can't see anything!"

An arrow solidly _thwacked _into Merasmus's head, sailing clean through to the rock beside him. Merasmus let out a howl of pain and clapped a hand to the wound. _"Just stay down! Why won't you mortal fools just stay down!?"_ He screeched furiously, turning to find the source of the arrow. Sniper, being supported by Spy. Spy was looking at Merasmus in deep, furious loathing. The front of his suit was torn to shreds and stained with blood, and he was breathing hard. It looked like claws had been run up and down his chest, or someone had taken a small knife and slashed himself to little bits.

"Wizard," Spy said, his voice carrying clearly. "It's not just us you've hurt. If it were, maybe. Maybe we would let it pass. But zere are others here who would die and stay dead. And some of us…" He withdrew his butterfly knife from his suit and flicked it into completion. "Would die ourzelves before we'd let that happen."

Sniper shot him a look of confusion, but Spy let him go. He vanished.

Medic regained consciousness, grabbing his medigun and getting closer to Soldier. He healed Sniper back to his fully recovered state, then Scout.

Scout got up. And as he did, he felt a tiny weight on his left shoulder.

Orange-red fur. Small. The creature at his side gave a chitter.

"Kick his ass. Got it." Scout grinned at the tiny thing.

And they charged.

…

"Stop, stop, stop it right there." Scout piped suddenly. "This entire story is total shit. I would not fucking cry an injury like that. I'm tough, man."

Engineer closed the book, giving Scout an exasperated look. "You wanted me to have ya in the goddamn book, Scout, and there you are. In the book."

Pyro gave a chirp of agreement with Engineer. "Hhh hhhmm mhhhhh!" He agreed, stroking the tiny orange-red squirrel in his lap. The thing gave an irritated squeak but unfurled its tail in pleasure. "Hhhoo hhhhnnn!" He begged.

"Pyro, I'm not gonna finish the book unless Scout agrees to shut it." The Engineer said harshly, casting an angry glance in Scout's direction. "'Sides, Scout, I don't even think ya'll can read, much less tell a story like this."

"Yeah, well, it sucks anyway. But I don't get some stuff, too. What didja mean, Medic was gone yesterday night and went through respawn?"

"I checked the machine." Engineer said briskly. "He went through respawn yesterday night."

"An' the Spy head on Medic's desk?" Scout challenged.

"He's got one, Scout, ya'll haven't seen it? It talks an' everything. It was gone from Medic's lab yesterday night, too." The Engineer replied.

"Well, okay, but what was that shit about Spy's suit? You said clawmarks and shit, where's he gonna get clawmarks from?"

The Engineer paused briefly, looking up. He thought for a moment, looked down at Scout, and smiled. "Well, boy, maybe there are some things wrong with the book. Didja think of that one?"

"Well, I kinda thought you were goin' for accuracy and shit with this." Scout grumbled. "You got a lot of it in there."

"Scout, why don't you just go? I'll finish the book for Pyro." The Engineer said curtly.

"Whatever, man." Scout got up and left, calling, "It sucked, anyway!"

The Engineer shook his head lightly, smiling to himself. Scout would be Scout.

**(God, I actually really hated writing this one. It was my least favorite of the bunch and probably least coherent. Ah, well. On a brighter note, I now have 1500+ views. Holy crap, guys, It's only been a frickin' week and already 500 more than last time!)**

**(Awh, I love ya all~3)**


	8. Playing with Fire (Part One)

Playing with Fire

"Thank God he's finally gone," The Engineer muttered, casting a glance out his bedroom door. Scout had just left. He got up and shut the door before turning back to heavily sit down on his bed. Pyro gave a little _mmphh _of agreementand nodded. Scout was definitely a pain in the ass, and his criticism of the story _he _had asked Engineer to tell was just unfair.

"I dunno what's wrong with that boy, Pyro. Seems like he could be a good man if he would just stop insultin' others fer no reason." The Engineer mused aloud.

"Mmh-hhmm." Pyro agreed vaguely. He gazed into space for a moment, then jerked back to reality. He gave a little _mmpph _and pointed to a rather large bookshelf besides the Engineer's bed. "Hhhhddd hhh hhh hhhddrrr hhhrrrhhheee." He requested.

"Read ya another story?" Engineer frowned. "I dunno, Pyro, I cain't keep burnin' through books this fast. I don't often have time t' get 'em for ya, and the shelf's already crowded as it is."

"Heeeahhhzzz?" Pyro begged. He looked hopefully at the Engineer, and despite the mask it was rather clear he was probably looking very, very innocent and sweet, mustering up every amount of charm he could.

Ah, hell, the Engineer couldn't say no Pyro when he looked like that.

"Alright, alright, go pick one." The Engineer sighed, caving in like he always did. The Pyro gave a squeak of delight and clumsily raced towards the shelf, tripping over his own feet in his haste. He peered at the bookshelf and seemed to be looking for something in particular.

The uppermost section of the bookshelf was full of Engineer's books; a few books on engineering, with even fewer magazines on engineering, and a small number of cookbooks as well. Beneath the Engineer's shelf was Pyro's- the shelf contained a wide array of books, mostly short chapter books but some picture books or slightly more advanced novels. His books covered a wide range of genres- mystery, murder, adventure, drama, and just occasionally even comedy. Most of the books seemed to be for ages five to fifteen, and the shelf and shelves beneath it were full of them. There were at least a hundred books of varying subjects that sat on those shelves, but one thing remained constant- most of them had animals in them in some form or another.

There were three books on the entire animal kingdom, and two hardcover encyclopedias dedicated solely to cats or dogs. These reached up to over a thousand pages in length. The Pyro paused and selected a well-worn paperback, weathered by six years of constant use.

"Pyro, not this one again," The Engineer groaned, with exaggerated exasperation. "I could prolly just tell ya the story without even readin' it. Ya give this to me every darn day to read to ya, aren't ya sick of it by now?"

"Heeeahhhzzz?" Pyro whined, giving that innocent pleading look again.

" Alright, alright, only since ya asked nicely," The Engineer murmured. "Okay then, first chapter."

He took a deep breath and began, his tone steady as though he'd read this many, many times. Which he had. "These two very old people are th' father and mother of Mr. Bucket. Their names are Grandpa Joe and Grandma Josephine. An' these two very old people are th' father and mother of Mrs. Bucket. Their names're Grandpa George and Grandma Georgina…"

The Engineer continued into Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, droning on until the end of chapter ten. "It was only ten paces away… it was a newspaper and stationery store, th' kind that sells almost everythin', includin' candy and cigars… and what he would _do, _he whispered quickly to himself… he would buy one luscious bar 'a candy an' eat it _all _up, every bit of it, right then an' there… an' th' rest 'a th' money he would take straight back home an' give t' his mother."

Pyro gave a little squeak of delight, wriggling where he sat. He knew the rest, he knew what was coming, but he still wanted Engineer to continue to read. He looked disappointed when the Engineer stopped and set the book lightly back into the shelf, creasing the corner.

"Hhhh!" He complained, but Engineer shook his head.

"Now, no complainin'. I read that book way too much than is healthy, Pyro." The Engineer said sternly. "I've got work to do, so ya'll 're gonna have to entertain yerself."

Pyro gave a little upset grumble and stamped out in a huff. The Engineer chuckled to himself and turned to his desk, where he'd already sketched out a new design. He knew he would most likely get Pyro to burn it later, and he idly drew over the half-finished drawings and scrawled notes. He eventually sketched out the Pyro's mask and class insignia before flipping the paper over and drawing something else. He wasn't an artist, but this might do…

He looked back at the results- a nicely drawn puppy, even if it might not have been anatomically accurate. He'd had his eye on a litter that a little old lady just outside of town had bred. It would make a _perfect _present for Pyro, although he'd end up taking care of it. He knew the puppies the woman had were all mutts, bred between a Jack Russell Terrier and Australian cattle dog. But did that really matter? All that mattered was that Pyro liked it and it liked Pyro back.

He started sketching on another sheet, humming to himself. He drew Spook, Bites, Scout's squirrel, Bonker, and Archimedes. He lightly set the pencil to the paper and wondered if he was missing anyone.

He was, but he daren't draw it.

The Engineer set his pencil down, stretched, and realized it was probably time to make some form of dinner. He got up, yawning, and headed to Pyro's room, knocking lightly on the door.

"Mmm hmmm!" The Pyro called in greeting. The Engineer opened the door and entered.

The room was simple, to say the least. There was a simple bed and a desk. The desk covered in various clumsy, childlike drawings; a lot of them with a crudely drawn version of the Engineer and himself. The Engineer had to chuckle at one, where the Pyro was standing besides his sentry and burning an enemy Spy. But the flames were colored with bright rainbows, whirling crazily around the Spy's body. 'Pyro' was also childishly scrawled in both blue crayon and a purplish red. Magenta, maybe? Little scribbles also dotted the picture, and the colors were outside of the rough outlines of bodies.

Still though, as awful-looking as the picture was, it was kind of cute.

"Pyro, we gotta make dinner." He nudged the mercenary, who was lying on his stomach and coloring a coarsely drawn picture of Spook.

"Mmhh." He waved his hand vaguely and signed his name shakily at the bottom with a green crayon. He showed it proudly to the Engineer and he tried not to laugh. He didn't want to hurt Pyro's feelings. The Engineer helped Pyro put it up on the wall with a thumbtack. His walls were covered in various pictures, a lot containing the Engineer, rainbows, horses, or pink. None of these things were masculine, but if Pyro wanted to draw these things that was his own choice.

Once they were done putting up Pyro's latest masterpiece, they headed downstairs. The Engineer flicked open a cookbook to a random page and set it gently on the counter.

It was one he'd prepared quite often and was actually really good at making. Engineer gave a little grin at Pyro and they began to work.

The kitchen became comfortably warm as the oven began to heat and Pyro worked furiously at chopping, slicing, and dicing various fruits and vegetables. The Engineer swore and checked their stock repeatedly before finding what he needed. Eight people were not easy to cook for.

The food was almost done. Pyro had finished preparing his salad and glanced at the Engineer for approval. The Engineer gave it a brief inspection and gave a nod to Pyro, who clapped his hands joyfully. He set tongs into the salad bowl and waited for the main course to finish. The Engineer figured it had about fifteen minutes left.

He hesitated for a long moment and withdrew another plate. Pyro gave him a questioning look but Engineer shook his head silently. Pyro nodded and turned back to his salad.

The Engineer muttered to himself as he rummaged around in the fridge. "There." He murmured softly, withdrawing an egg. He cracked it lightly, found a slightly dented pan, and plopped the egg into the skillet. He scrambled it with a fork and waited until it was fully solidified before setting it onto the plate he'd set out. He set the skillet into the sink and searched the cabinets and fridge again before setting small chunks of pork on the plate as well.

"HHhrr hhooo hoohhhnnn?" The Pyro asked curiously.

"Shh, Pyro. Can't tell ya'll what I'm doin'. It's fer someone, that's all I kin say about it."

Pyro nodded in understanding and they withdrew the main course from the oven. It was cooked perfectly, a feat which the Engineer had only accomplished a few times. Pyro was better with operating the stove and oven, most likely because of his already vast knowledge of everything relating to fire.

The Engineer gave a weary nod and the two mercenaries scooped up their dishes and headed for the diningroom. Scout, Soldier, and Demo were waiting for them, making small talk among themselves.

"Hardhat!" Scout greeted warmly, gazing intently at the food he was carrying. "Ooh, man, that actually looks really good."

"Well, thanks, boy." The Engineer mumbled, mostly to himself. He set the meal down and Pyro set his own down. The Engineer took his portion and he and Pyro headed to another table.

The Engineer ate in thoughtful silence and the Pyro nudged him lightly with his elbow after a little while. "Hhhhh hhhzzz hhh hhhhzzz hhhrrr?" He asked, his head tilted curiously.

"What were th' eggs for? Pyro, you're still on about that?" The Engineer chuckled. "Nothin' you need to worry about, I promise. It's just fer me."

Pyro didn't look satisfied with his answer, but went back to stare at the table idly. Several years ago when he and Engineer had both arrived he'd carved the Engineer's class insignia into the wood along with his own, claiming the table as his and the Engineer's. In all that time that had passed nobody but Pyro and Engineer had sat at that table.

The Engineer paused when the Medic slipped in. He looked a little more haggard than usual and the Engineer assumed the Medic had been through another sleepless night. Oh, and he'd died. The Engineer felt compelled to go over and ask the Medic just how he'd died the night previous, but the Medic shot him a tired, weary look and shook his head. He clearly did _not _want to pursue the subject. The German doctor shambled over to the third and final table and sat, his head slumped and shoulders were slightly raised, drawn up and towards his body tensely.

The Heavy entered and sat across from the Medic, who gave an exhausted murmur of greeting. The Sniper chose to sit at their table, although they neared the front and he neared the back. He was talking to Spook brightly while gesturing occasionally with his fork. Spook sat blankly, staring into space.

Two other mercenaries' animals were present as well- Scout's squirrel, Bonker, was gazing across at Bites while fidgeting with the little tie around his neck. Bites hissed and snapped his teeth at the smaller rodent before being scooped up and dropped into Soldier's lap.

"Now, Bites, don't be hostile. That squirrel is an honest to God American." Soldier reminded the overlarge rodent, rubbing the top of the raccoon's head lightly.

The Engineer shrugged and turned back to his food. He swore softly under his breath when he heard Scout call his name. "Yo, hardhat! C'mere, you 'n' Mumbles need t' hear this."

The Engineer sighed and noisily got out of his chair, swaggering over. "What is it?"

Demo tossed a neat, clean sheet of paper onto the table and began speaking. "We're na' gettin' paid this week." He explained. "An' the week after, 'cause there's a lot more stuff those ol' men want ta look at. This note is from tha' lady who always screams at us while we fight. Found it on me door this moarnin'."

"Well, it's not like we got a shortage 'a money." The Engineer responded, shrugging nonchalantly. "This is only for a few weeks, right? Th'rest of this week an' next week?"

"Still though!" Scout protested. "That's a buncha money those geezers aren't givin' us."

"Scout, it'll be fine." The Engineer soothed, waving his hand dismissively. He peered at the note interestedly. Simple, careful type declared that "Your employer wishes to extend the period of reviewing security footage for an additional seven days. In answer to personnel concerns, you are not getting paid during the additional week nor the six days already spent. –Administrator."

The Engineer scanned it a little closer, thinking about just what that meant. He went back to his table, finished eating, and gathered his dishes up. Pyro got up as well, recognizing it was time to leave.

At a later time Pyro himself would eat. But Pyro always ate in his room- sometimes with the Engineer present, sometimes without. To make certain he would not be interrupted or disturbed in any form he had a lock on his door, the only locked room except for Spy's. In addition to keeping people out, it occasionally kept Pyro in.

The Engineer was the only person who carried a key to this lock. Not even Pyro himself possessed one.

The Engineer set his dishes in the sink and silently acknowledged he would have to clean them later. He steered Pyro upstairs once the dishes had settled. Undoubtedly Pyro would want him to continue reading or play the guitar. But the Pyro requested neither of these things. He instead headed to the Engineer's room and demanded that they go to the store and get more books.

The Engineer paused and considered. Well, yes, they could go and get more books. It wasn't exactly late in the evening, but it wasn't early either. He considered briefly while Pyro ambled over to his desk and marveled over his drawing of a puppy. "Mhhhrpphiiiee!" He cried in delight. The Engineer couldn't help but chuckle at the Pyro's enthusiasm.

"You know, it ain't that late." The Engineer murmured to himself. "Alright, Pyro, we'll go to town."

The Pyro let out a delighted squeak, clapping his hands together loudly and nodding enthusiastically. The Engineer gave a little sigh and smiled back at Pyro. His childish excitement was heartening sometimes.

"Alright, wait here, I'll get the keys from Sniper." The Engineer gave a brief nod and prayed Sniper would be cooperative. He left the room, shutting the door securely, and headed down the hallway to Sniper's room. He knocked on Sniper's door and a few moments later the Aussie opened it, a dusty, battered book in one hand and a small knife in the other.

"Engineer." The Sniper acknowledged him with a small dip of the head. "What do you want? Oy'm in the middle of makin' some more arrows." He gestured lazily to his bed, where a few knives, wooden rods, chips of flint, and Spook lay.

"Need t' borrow the keys to your van." The Engineer nodded. "Pyro wants to get some books in town."

"Didn't know he could read." The Australian murmured to himself, turning and checking the room for a few moments. He pawed through a drawer and smiled after a moment. "Aah, here they are." He fished the keys out of the clutter in the drawer and handed them to Engineer. "Two things 'fore you go, mate. One, don't screw up moy van. Don't get it dirty or anythin', Oy just cleaned it a while ago. Two, don't get kidnapped again."

The Engineer stiffened automatically, his left hand balling into a fist and his fingers tightly curling around Sniper's keys so harshly they would've drawn blood, had he not been protected by a rubber glove. He forced himself to give a nod of gratitude and stiffly move, closing the door and saying a brief "thanks".

Just like Medic, being kidnapped had left a small, lingering trace of fear and paranoia. While his was not as deep-seated or strong as Medic's, it still lingered all the same. Hearing Sniper speak in such a brisk, dismissive way stung badly, and even upset him a little. He shook his head to try and clear the awful memories invading his thoughts. It'd been five days since the kidnapping, and each day he'd tried his very hardest to forget about it and put the incident behind him.

When he returned to his room, Pyro was drawing his own version of the dog the Engineer had sketched. The Engineer watched, slightly fascinated. It looked better than most of Pyro's drawings, and Pyro was actually moving the pencil quite precisely. Everything went fine until the tip snapped.

Pyro froze, shot a look at the Engineer, and then back at the pencil. His fingers started trembling and the Engineer swallowed.

_Oh no. _

Pyro occasionally threw brutal, savage fits over small things. For example- if someone like Scout called him a less than endearing term and he heard it, he would occasionally go on a ferocious killing spree of everyone in his path until he cooled down and felt better. These violent episodes weren't very frequent due to Pyro's usual deafness to the world. But when they happened no one tried to stop him. The only one who even made an attempt to calm Pyro down during one of his murderous temper tantrums was Engineer, who usually went through Respawn as a result.

Engineer had once seen him kill five of his other team members over something as small as a broken pencil tip, only to be calmed down seconds later by a stuffed bear. Pyro started up a ferocious wail of anger and Engineer cut him off before he could find a weapon. "Pyro! Pyro, calm down, I know ya'll are mad, but if ya don't throw a fit or kill anybody…" He fumbled for something to bribe Pyro with, anything, anything at all. His gaze flicked around the room and settled on Pyro's drawing. "I'll get you a dog."

Pyro's head jerked back as though Engineer had punched him. He looked like a child on Christmas morning, despite not being able to show facial expressions. He gave a high-pitched yelp of excitement.

The Engineer breathed a small sigh of relief and he added a few more hundred dollar bills to the sum he was going to spend on Pyro's new books. They headed outside to Sniper's van. Pyro was going to ride shotgun and Engineer was going to drive. The two got in, buckled their seatbelts, and Engineer started the van. The van growled to life and sped off down the road.

After they'd been on their way for five or so minutes, the Engineer thoughtfully glanced out the window. It was nearing night now; the sky seemed to be on a fine border betwixt sunset and nighttime. The Engineer loved this time of day, where the brightest stars began to crop up in the inky black night sky. The sun would just barely be gone from the horizon and streaks of dark blue would remain just above the skyline until they were completely swallowed by the darkness of night.

This time, between day and night, was very peaceful. Crickets would just begin to chirp and the barren, dry desert the mercs resided in would steadily grow cooler. It was also still bright enough to read if you squinted hard, but dark enough that everything had a fuzzy gray look.

The Engineer hummed softly to himself, eyes scanning the road for any new potholes or objects that could've appeared since he'd traveled the long, rural road to town.

He made it to the small town and parked on the outskirts, stretching as the car came to a halt. He fought the urge to yawn and Pyro got out, acting sleepier than usual. It was warm in the van and both of the mercs had a problem where they got sleepy after lengthy car rides.

"Alright, lets go. Dog first?" He glanced at the Pyro for confirmation and the pyromaniac nodded quickly. The Engineer set foot onto the ground and heard the familiar crunch of gravel. It was nice, in a way, to know he'd walked this so many times it felt natural. He settled into a steady pace that wasn't slow nor fast, and Pyro trailed after him. There was a long walk ahead of them to get to the woman's home. He was going to get that puppy for Pyro, and he had to do it quickly or else the whole town could be set ablaze. He shook off that thought and sped up.

"Ain't far now," He promised the Pyro several minutes later, purposely avoiding the supply store.

He gave a tiny grunt of satisfaction as they came upon the woman's hom,e much later. It was a nice place, a two-story home. It still had the appearance of being small, though, and it looked neat and cozy from the outside. There was a small collection of brightly hued flowers on the porch railings. The Engineer paused to give them a look before striding up to the door and knocking firmly. There was a scruffing noise from inside that abruptly went silent.

The Engineer felt an uneasy, unpleasant sensation creep into his chest. Something felt wrong. Something felt very, very wrong.

"Ma'am?" The Engineer called hesitantly. "Ya'll 'right in there?"

There was a familiar bark of gunfire, a handgun, and a bullet came whizzing through the wooden door. Had the Engineer been a taller man the bullet would've gone through the top of his head. After the bullet had already passed the Engineer flinched instinctively, his reaction slow compared to a bullet's speed but quick compared to a human. "Get outta here!" A male voice hollered from inside.

_Why's this stuff always gotta happen whenever I do anything? _The Engineer thought in despair. He was unarmed, with the exception of his wrench. He glanced back hopelessly and the Pyro let out a little _mpphh. _The Pyro offered his shotgun to the Engineer and the Engineer shot him a grin. He took the Pyro's weapon and knocked on the door lightly again. "Sir, I'd like t' speak to th' owner of this home." The Engineer said clearly, racking the slide in a clear warning that he was armed. "And if you try t' shoot me again I will blow your goddamn head off."

He'd expected the person to fire anyway and stepped silently away from the door, moving to the far end of the porch. Pyro joined him, staying quiet and still. Sure enough, bullets tore through the door at a rapid rate, over and over again. There was muffled swearing and whoever was firing fumbled with another clip in an attempt to reload.

God dammit, did he have to get involved?

Yes.

He kicked the door down harshly and the shooter let out a yelp of surprise, dropping the clip he was struggling with. The Engineer's eyes swept the room, looking for the woman. It suddenly occurred to him just how _silly _this situation was. Dell Conagher, the knight in shining overalls. He had to try not to laugh as he thrust Pyro's shotgun towards the man. The intruder was dressed in very odd clothing- a black ski-mask and clothes so ill-fitting and repulsive Spy would probably faint upon looking at them.

"Look, man, I don't want trouble, I just want the money from the lady." The man said nervously, his gaze flicking to the house's owner. She lay unconscious, sprawled on the bottom stair and the floor.

"An' I just wanted to buy a dog," The Engineer grumbled under his breath. "Jus' get out an' stay out."

There was a subtle shift in the air, and a small change to the man's face. His worried expression twisted into a hateful sneer. Pyro called a warning from the porch as the man jerked his hand up and fired.

So. He hadn't been out of bullets. He had been faking.

The Engineer gave a choking gasp as the bullet buried itself an inch beneath his right collarbone. Before the pain struck he recognized the bullet couldn't have struck anything vital from where it was lodged.

And the shotgun let out a bark in his hands as he instinctively pulled the trigger. The shots slammed into the intruder's head and the man's head exploded to mincemeat at point-blank range. The man was dead before the Engineer could even feel the pain of the bullet.

Then, finally, agony spread out like a hot wave, blossoming from the wound. It throbbed with a steady pulse, as though another heart were there pumping fire into his veins.

He did his best to ignore the agony that suddenly gripped him. He just wanted to get the goddamn dog and go. He wandered past the old lady on the stairs, wondering if he was going into shock. He opened the first closed door he came to and found a Jack Russell Terrier mother laying in her bed while puppies stumbled around the room sleepily. Eight or so puppies were scattered around the room, some sleeping and some making tired attempts at play. Occasional whines, yelps, and squeaks came from the pups and sometimes even the mother. He sat down and stared at the dogs in thought, clapping his left hand over his wound. He eventually selected the most playful of the group, a young male that yipped and bowled over his littermates excitedly. He was enthusiastic, the Engineer could give him that much.

The dog's body was a solid white, dappeled with a sort of caramel color. Its ears were a dark color, almost russet, and it had a larger splotch on its chest several shades lighter. The Engineer scooped the pup up with his good arm and rummaged in a pocket with his bloodied one. He cradled the adventurous pup carefully while it kicked and let out little delighted yaps that clearly meant _play? Play? Play? _He withdrew several faded bills and set a good deal of money under the dog bed. He went back to putting pressure on his bullet wound and holding the wiggling dog firmly. It was most likely weaned by now; it looked around the proper age. And even if it wasn't weaned, the Engineer knew how to feed puppies of all ages by experience.

"Pyro!" The Engineer called, unable to keep the fatigue out of his voice. "We're goin home!" He stumbled weakly down the stairs, doing his best not to fall over. His footsteps were clumsy and imprecise, but he made it down without damaging himself or the puppy.

"Mmph." The Pyro said in response. "Hudda hhd hhh hhzz?" The Engineer clenched his jaw as a particularly fierce pain tore through him. He dug his fingers into his skin.

"What about the books?" He translated out loud. "Well…" God dammit. He couldn't say no to Pyro, not even with a bullet in his body. He was a doormat even while bleeding heavily and in intense pain. "I s'pose a little bit of shoppin' won't kill me." He mumbled to himself.

His hand was coated in blood and the wound steadily trickled, staining his already red shirt a deep crimson. He passed the puppy to Pyro, who gave a high-pitched exclamation of delight and cuddled the puppy to his chest.

Aw, hell, the entire trip was worth it just for those three seconds.

He slipped the glove off his right hand and put it on his left so he wouldn't have to keep feeling the blood so clearly. He searched the woman's house briefly and found a small towel, hoping she wouldn't mind. He pressed the towel against his wound. He wanted to clean up this poor woman's home, or at least drag out the robber's corpse, but he doubted he could do pretty much anything involving using the right half of his torso; and Pyro was too excited over his new dog to even try to listen to Engineer, or anyone else for that matter.

As the Pyro bounced away from the house gleefully, the Engineer asked what he would name the dog.

Pyro blinked and stopped moving for a moment, taking a good while to consider.

"Hhhhnnnhhheee." He said finally.

"Sentry?" The Engineer blinked in surprise, a little flattered. Pyro nodded, mostly to himself, and the puppy tossed his head and yapped in agreement.

The Engineer snorted, cracking a small smile. "Alright, let's go get your damn books before I die of blood loss."

…

The Engineer shivered violently, pressing himself closer to Pyro. Pyro gave a worried little _nmph _and pulled his arm tighter around the Engineer's shoulder. The Engineer was holding his wound with one arm and a stack of books in the other. And he was freezing cold. It was just barely nine PM and it was already so cold the Engineer wanted to jump into a roaring fire and burn to death. His breath plumed in the air as he breathed. But there was one benefit to this; the cold was slowing the blood flow.

They moved rapidly to Sniper's van and hurriedly got in. The Pyro set down Sentry and dug around in the back of the van for a while. After several minutes of shivering the Pyro gave a triumphant cry and threw a blanket at the Engineer.

The Texan wrapped it around himself gratefully and waited until his trembling subsided before starting the van. Pyro buckled his seatbelt and the Engineer started the van, pressing his foot to the accelerator and moving on.

Once they got back, he went to see Medic. The doctor had dug out the bullet and healed the wound without any needless complications or unnecessary pain. Once he had been restored to his regular state, he went upstairs. And thus, it was time for the most embarrassing part of his day.

In addition to reading Pyro stories, most days Pyro refused to go to sleep unless the Engineer tucked him in _and _read him a bedtime story. (Goodnight Moon was his favorite bedtime story, whereas Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was his favorite all-around.)

So, as soon as Medic had patched him up and he'd returned the keys to Sniper, he took Goodnight Moon from where it sat proudly on the shelf and entered Pyro's room. Pyro was waiting expectantly, Sentry nestled cheerfully next to him. The Engineer gave a small, quiet sigh, and opened the book.

"In the great green room…" He began.

…

The Engineer slipped out of Pyro's bedroom and locked Pyro's door. He headed wearily to his own room and stripped out of his bloodied clothes, putting on clean bedclothes. As he was readying himself for sweet, sweet sleep, he realized there was something he'd forgotten to do.

When he'd done this simple thing, he climbed into bed and reflected on the day. Pyro was happy. He and Pyro now had a dog. And some bastard thief was dead.

He gave a little grunt, turned over and went to sleep.

…

Spy entered his room, having just finished with his shower. The hot water had felt excellent to his sore, aching muscles. He stretched contentedly and was ready to journal about that day. But he noticed Hidden was crouched in the corner, tail raised happily. Odd, that was where Spy placed Hidden's meals; but Hidden had already consumed all his food that day.

Spy peered closer, curious and slightly worried.

As soon as he saw it, he jerked back as though he'd seen a venomous cobra in the corner.

"Non. Non. Non, non, non, non." Spy breathed.

Fresh food sat on Hidden's plate, food Spy had not brought. Alongside it, a note.

Spy slumped to the ground, clamping a hand over his mouth. His eyes widened in disgust, shock, horror, pain, and surprise as he realized what this meant.

Someone _knew. _

Someone knew of Hidden's existence, Spy's greatest, oldest secret. His eyes raked madly over the note that had come along with the food.

It was a plain typeface. His first thought was that it was the Administrator, and he felt like screaming or crying at that. But it didn't have the harsh, clipped sentences the Administrator was known for. The note simply stated that this type of food was good for a cat; that the meal contained plenty of protein. Along with this was a passive suggestion to not steal any more organs or rats from the Medic.

His second suspicion was that it was Medic. But Medic wasn't the type for subtle suggestion; he would openly confront Spy about something like this.

But… then who?

Spy watched, full of self-loathing, shame, and guilt, as Hidden hungrily scarfed down a plateful of food consisting entirely of scrambled eggs and pork.

**(Holy crap, I can't believe I got another full-length chapter done in under thirty hours. I'm pretty sure it was thanks in part to some of the new reviewers- I really thank you for your kind words and desire to see more! 3)**

**(Anyway, big thank you to my friend and VivanShadowGirl who both suggested I do a Pyro and Engineer chapter. I promise you, it was actually really hard. Special thanks to my cat for using my keyboard as a pillow while I desperately wrote the first draft on paper; and biggest thank-you of all to everyone who's reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting. Seriously, I've gotten almost 400 views more in only a little over a day! That is frickin _amazing!) _**


	9. Playing with Fire (Part Two)

Playing with Fire Part Two

The Pyro glanced at the Engineer's retreating back. The Engineer flicked off the light, murmured "goodnight", and quietly shut the door.

Pyro waited in the darkness for sleep to claim him. The puppy ceased wriggling and was now resting comfortably against the Pyro's chest. There was a distant, muffled sound of a door being opened and closed. Then, from much later and further away, the soft sound of a door being opened, shut, and locked.

Sentry's breathing grew louder and steadier, forming a constant rhythm. The repeated cadence of Sentry's breath was soothing to listen to. The Pyro found himself drowsy, tiredly listening to the noise, and quickly fell asleep.

There was a muffled, distant snap and Pyro found himself plunged into a white room with too-bright lights. Pyro felt a rush of pain from his ankle. Well, not exactly pain. It was more of an unpleasant pressure, pressing painfully against his muscles and skin. There was a sharp change in the air. Before it'd been full of anger, defiance, and ferocity. Then the next moment, it was stark horror and fear. From somewhere nearby there was another person, reeking of fear. They were very, very, very afraid and almost sick with fear. That person moved over to the Pyro and dragged him towards someplace else.

There was an ease on the horrible pressure and a faint, relaxing hum above him. The pressure completely lifted, leaving Pyro with a warm, content feeling that bubbled from his chest all around his body. As he was moved away from the humming healing source, the wonderful feeling slowly drained away. He was suddenly being carried by the nice man. The one with all the machines. The nice man set him into the BLU van and followed him soon after.

The van lurched to life and Pyro felt a slow, simmering rage build within him. The nice man and the healer were both awake, both sick with anger and fear. They were awake, they were scared, and they couldn't move. The Pyro felt anger coil in his chest, squeezing his innards tightly like a snake strangling the life from its prey. The nice man had been hurt, that much was obvious, but it didn't appear physical. His fear was shallower than the healer's. There was deep damage in the healer, both physical and mental, and the Pyro felt a little more worried for him. This fear could last a long time, maybe for the rest of his life. The big man, the one with the deep, nice laughter, couldn't move either. But he wasn't awake, not like the nice man and the healer. He hadn't woke yet and Pyro was afraid he had left them for the dark void.

But he suddenly made noise. Good. Noise meant life. And the big man- No. Not the big man. He was the Heavy. That was his name, his title. And the _Heavy _would be useful when he took revenge on the BLUs.

The Medic spoke tiredly. The Pyro listened closely to his short speech, and was frustrated he didn't understand most of the words. They were drugged? What did that mean?

He silently cursed himself for his stupidity as they came to a halt.

Nevermind the Medic's words. Revenge came before understanding. He jerked his head up and his colleagues flinched. Good, if he could move his head he could probably move the rest of his body. His muscles were all functioning. The Pyro tilted his head at the Engineer. He silently asked if he should go after them. Kill the BLU Medic and Heavy.

The Engineer's head dipped. Just barely enough to count as a movement.

Adrenaline surged through the Pyro. He got up and left the van. His feet were steady on the ground as he rushed after them.

He entered the building the BLUs were heading into. It was a huge building, elegant and grand. But almost entirely crafted out of wood. A dangerous thing now that a pyromaniac had entered the place. The Pyro ignored the many stares he received. The civilians didn't matter. The BLU was his goal.

The BLU Medic and Heavy split up. The Heavy trotted off somewhere else while the Medic hurriedly strode towards a small, almost invisible door in a small corner of the place. The Pyro considered which to go after for a second and decided on the Medic. After all, it was he who had caused his fellows' suffering. He was the target, the one to kill first. He moved swiftly through the lobby, and despite the people's odd looks he managed to blend in with them by keeping his head ducked low. He stayed hidden easily and followed the BLU to the door.

The BLU opened it and slipped through. Pyro waited a few moments and followed. Where was he going?

There was a narrow hallway. It was colored a deep gray and had nothing else but the ceiling, floor, and walls. No objects or anything. The hallway split off to two doors. The BLU's emotions switched abruptly as he headed for the door on the left. He was afraid. Stale, bitter fear rose from the BLU as he stepped towards the door. What was scaring him so badly? What was his purpose in coming here?

The Medic took a deep breath, stopping in front of the door. He gathered a tiny amount of courage and entered. He left the door open, just a little. The gap between door and doorframe wasn't even an inch long.

"Sir." The BLU Medic's voice was shaky with fear and excitement. "I have him. I have Dell Conagher, und a few ozzers on R-RED's staff."

"Who else?" The other voice was short and harsh, annoyed and bored at the same time.

"Ze RED Pyro. My RED self. Ze RED Heavy." His voice was breathless with fear and anticipation now. Pyro controlled his anger for a moment, curious as to what this person was. Or what the BLU was doing here, talking to him. And anyway, he had no weapons. Fighting now would be suicide.

The Pyro felt the dog wriggle in his arms, and he woke. It was still dark outside. He blinked, shaking his head, and let the dream wash over him again. The BLUs had stolen the healer, the big one, and the nice man. Sentry let out a sudden whimper of discomfort as the Pyro sat up. The BLU healer had entered the room and spoken with the monster.

That monster terrified him now. Pyro was glad, very glad, the dream had ended when it did. He stretched, feeling groggy, and the dog stretched beside him. It got up, plopped itself down on his pillow, and gave a little "_whoooff"_ and sprawled out lazily on Pyro's pillow, closing its eyes. Pyro poked the puppy lightly and it gave a wheezy whine and wagged its tail. Pyro rubbed the puppy's belly and it snorted before letting out a pleased "_rrrhhhfff." _

Pyro was tired. He wanted sleep to come again, but the memories of that day would come flooding back in full force if he tried to rest again.

And that meant he would have to see the monster again.

Well, it wasn't a monster. Not exactly. It was a man. A human male. And it was scary. Right now he couldn't call the man anything but scary. No other words came to mind other than scary.

The Pyro nudged Sentry aside and lay down. Sentry gave a huff and sat himself down on top of Pyro's chest.

Pyro shivered in fear as he envisioned the man again, and hugged Sentry closer to his chest.

He stared up at the ceiling. There were a lot of drawings taped up there, the bright crayon faded in the dark. He could make out the solid white of the sheets of paper, and some of the thicker, darker lines. He stared at them, feeling cold even with the blanket drawn over him and a dog nestled on his chest.

Despite this, he found himself dreaming again.

He felt the darkness from inside the room. Fear did not touch him now, but he would fear what lay inside later. The BLU Medic audibly swallowed.

"You have done well." The voice said boredly. "Good job."

"Z-Zank you, sir!" The BLU said breathlessly. His fear lifted, clearing the air and allowing the man inside's presence to clearly seep through towards the Pyro.

The Pyro felt it and recoiled.

It felt cold. Indifferent.

_Evil. _

The person inside was undeniably evil. His wrongness, his cruelty, practically oozed from the open door. His being was repulsive, wrong, sickening. This man, this thing inside, was cold-blooded, neat, precise, but felt so very, very, very wrong. A being like that shouldn't have existed. It was too cold, too distant to feel human. The Pyro couldn't even grasp the vast emptiness that was this person's emotions.

"Bring me Conagher." The voice said. There was a _creeeeakkk _as he leaned forward in a chair. His voice was hungry, full of anticipation, as though the Engineer was something to eat. Prey for him to sink his bloodthirsty teeth into.

_He's talking about the Engineer. _The Pyro realized numbly. _He wants my friend. He's going to do horrible things to him. _

That tore it.

He gave a shout of fury and slammed the door open with his shoulder. The evil creature flinched from where it sat, behind a small desk and cloaked in shadow. The Medic was standing near the door. The BLU turned, shock etched onto his face. He reached for the bonesaw on his belt. The RED Medic's bonesaw.

"No, you fool," The evil man hissed. "If you kill that crime against nature we lose any hold against Conagher. Do. Not. Kill. Him."

The Pyro turned to the evil.

He wore a suit of almost silver, a slate gray now that it was swathed in shadow. The person had a corpselike face and sharp cheekbones. He was small. With cruel, ferocious eyes. His fingers were on the desk, corpselike and knotted. There was an almost physical darkness that glowed around him. He _radiated _a dark feeling, and a cold pit of fear built in the Pyro's stomach. The BLU Medic's fear returned sharply, muffling the man's own aura. The BLU Medic tackled the Pyro, pinning him to the ground briefly. He swiftly turned and ran, his focus now on fleeing.

The dream blurred. It skipped ahead abruptly to Pyro's fight.

He was standing above the BLU, hot rage burning in his heart. His muscles burned from the hacking and slashing he'd done. Blood oozed from a long gash in the Medic's chest and his stump of a hand spurted blood all over the small stage. The BLU was terrified. His eyes glittered brightly with sick fear, and his expression was twisted in a panicked form of desperation. He searched desperately for a way out, but he was pinned. He had no way out. The Pyro readied his axe, letting out a deep breath.

He faltered. He faltered for just a single critical moment, because the Medic just looked so scared. He felt just a momentary flicker of sympathy that cost him dearly.

A split second later a fist collided with his head. The Pyro staggered for a moment, dizzy. Arms closed around him tightly and he was flung through the air like a toy. Upon impact with the ground, the breath was driven from his body and he bounced.

He wheezed for breath and blearily realized the BLU Heavy had come to save his Medic.

The Pyro's axe was out of reach.

Fine. He'd have to use his last resort.

The Pyro tore a grenade off his chest and flung it.

The flames that exploded from it were not their brightly-hued rainbow. Not like they normally were. They were hot, blazing circles of orange and gold flame. And they were more beautiful than the rainbow fire had ever been.

He threw each and every last one of the incendiary grenades. But none of them had hurt either of the BLUs. He gritted his teeth in frustration and raced after them, swiping the axe off the ground. He was going to _finish them, _dammit. He was caught up in the hunt, consumed by it, and didn't notice the hot, glowing flames licking hungrily at his legs. He let out a cry of anger and delight and slashed the axe downward. But the BLU's fist hit him first.

The Pyro heard a snap from somewhere on his body. He gasped in pain as pressure exploded from his chest. He was physically thrown through the air. He landed solidly and gazed torpidly at the flames. He watched as the gold was replaced with every color he could think of.

Fire really was beautiful, he thought numbly. All of the fight he had was replaced with tiredness and soreness. He could only watch as the flames danced.

He was tired. He'd done his best.

But maybe his best wasn't good enough.

…

The BLU Spy's head blinked in surprise as he heard the lock on the infirmary door click.

The RED Spy pushed the door open with a soft squeak. He walked over, arms tightly clutching something jet-black and squirming.

"You didn't." The BLU breathed. "Not you. You wouldn't dare."

The RED's face was emotionless as he set the jet-black tomcat on the counter.

"Someone knows." The RED Spy said, his voice empty and hollow. "I don't know what to do."

"Ze Administrator? Someone on BLU?" The BLU's voice was full of genuine concern.

"I zink not." The RED murmured as Hidden rubbed his head up against the BLU Spy. "Someone on RED."

"Is it really zat much of a concern, zen? Zey're your team, zey wouldn't reveal your secret to anyone who could weaken you wiz ze knowledge of it."

"It doesn't matter." The RED snarled, his voice breaking. "Hidden is ze only one I've trusted for twenty years. If anyone, _anyone _knew, zey could cripple me without even knowing it. If they so much as mention it to ze wrong person, I'd be helpless against someone who would like to know such a zing." He collapsed into one of the Medic's chairs exhaustedly, staring tiredly into the BLU's eyes. "Ze Administrator would kill a hundred men just to learn of somezing like zis. And zere's someone else I fear. Someone who has appeared to me in dreams. Someone more sinister operating in ze shadows."

"Who?" The BLU asked, urgent and curious at the same time.

"Grey." The Spy murmured, staring at him thoughtfully. "Ze grey man."

**( Sorry if this chapter isn't very coherent. I wrote it down on paper at around two in the morning and got done typing it by 4:21. I'm very tired. But on a brighter note, I've almost got 2,300 views. I mean, that is a _lot. _Holy crap, you guys.)**


	10. Recovery's a Gift

Recovery's a Gift

Scout blinked, opening his eyes fully, and yawned. He sat up and stretched. He gave a violent shudder at the cold air hanging over his bed and immediately darted back under the blankets, hardly daring to stray from the warm spots his sleeping body had left. He closed his eyes again and felt like going through hibernation until it was a little warmer outside. He curled himself up in a c-shape, wincing at the cold sheets, and closed his eyes. He let his body relax and had almost drifted off to sleep, but he suddenly realized something.

"It's almost Christmas!" He hollered, grinning. He sprang out of bed, immediately being reminded it was freezing, and hurriedly got dressed. In addition to his normal red shirt, he put on a brilliantly red and slightly battered jacket. It was, indeed, almost Christmas. Snow had gathered across Sawmill and cold bit the air ferociously, both there and in the base. Despite the cold, holiday cheer seemed to hang in the air and the regularly depressive Medic and Spy were putting in extra work and enthusiasm to make everything seem more festive. Spy had even played _practical jokes _on the other mercs, most involving using his invisi-watch. Spy had even shoveled a handful of snow down the back of the Scout's jacket. It'd left Scout stunned, and Spy had laughed his ass off for the duration of the Scout's surprise. That was, of course, until Scout had attempted to beat the Spy's head in with the Sandman.

Scout didn't want to make any special notice of it, but even he understood the reason for their festivity and high spirits were because they were recovering. Or attempting to recover, at any rate. Slowly, steadily, the two mercs dragged themselves out of their depressive states and into a much more pleasant and cheerful way of acting. To Scout, the reason for Medic's depression was much more easy to understand than Spy's: He'd been kidnapped, drugged, dissected, and almost burned alive. Spy's was a little harder to understand, because Scout didn't know _why _he was depressed. The old French bastard had been acting all anti-social ever since six or seven months ago. He'd left for a little while, maybe that was it? Because when he'd returned, he shut himself in his room and refused to have open conversations with anyone but Sniper.

Scout shivered despite the jacket he wore. Damn, it was _cold. _Extra clothes were a necessity now, unless you were Medic or Heavy, who'd spent most of their lives in freezing climates. He dug around for some more clothes and found a battered-looking scarf. He slung it around his neck and Bonker came darting over from beneath the Scout's bed. He sprung onto Scout's waist and scrambled up his body to perch on the Scout's shoulder. He stroked the top of Bonker's head with one finger and headed downstairs. He was pleased to smell the Engineer and Pyro cooking something, and headed directly for the kitchen to see just what they were preparing. Their puppy was darting at their heels, whimpering for scraps although he'd already been fed a generous amount. The Texan and Pyro had spoiled Sentry with food and affection; and as a result it had a distinctly round stomach.

"G'mornin, Scout," The Engineer gave a brief nod of greeting. He was wearing his normal attire and Scout shuddered internally. If the kitchen hadn't been warm from all of the food cooking, Engie'd be freezing. Bacon and sausages sizzled on his left loudly and Pyro looked up. "Mhhpph!" He called, and gave Scout a wave. Scout greeted back and headed to the dining room and sat down patiently.

The Medic and Spy strolled in not too long after, Sniper between them. They were arguing rather loudly.

"-Oy told you tha' decoratin's for kids!" Sniper finished in frustration. "Oy don't want any part offit!"

"Und I told _you,_" The Medic snapped, "Zat it's _Christmas._" He was holding the Sniper tightly by his upper arm, dragging him along to the table. Spy was doing the same with Sniper's other arm. "Ve haven't properly celebrated in nearly seven years."

"An' tha's because there wasn't a _reason _t-" The Australian started to complain before being roughly stuffed into a seat. The Spy gave a tiny exhalation of anger.

"Bushman, if you don't stop complaining I am going to zrow zat stupid lizard of yours into ze nearest canyon."

"I think y' might find yer Christmas cheer down there, Spy." Scout teased. The Medic gave a snort of amusement and sat down besides the Sniper.

"Shut up, Scout," Spy drawled, but his tone was good-natured.

"Vill you be joining us for breakfast, Herr Spy?" The Medic asked absently. "I can't help but notice zat you're still here ven you usually lurk in some dark corner of ze room." The Spy considered for a moment, then he nodded. He took a seat on the other side of Sniper, directly across from Scout.

Scout gave a tiny grin and leaned forward. "Okay. Question. You guys up for a snowball fight? I haven't had one ever since I was a kid, an' there's plenty 'a snow in Sawmill now."

"You're still a kid." The Spy murmured quietly, but the three shot eachother looks. "Let's wait for ze ozzer's answers before we agree to anyzing."

Not long after, Soldier, Demo, and Heavy headed to their table.

"Snowball fight?" Scout asked immediately as they entered. Before anyone could say anything Bites jumped off of Soldier, onto the table, and waddled over to Scout and Bonker to sniff them.

"Of course!" Soldier said a split second after Scout's offer. "It will be fun! Right, maggots?" Heads bobbed. Unless it was likely to get them killed, it was a common practice to agree with the Soldier.

"No neck-breakin', though." Scout piped up in concern, remembering the last time he and Soldier had a mock fight. Soldier had bashed Scout's head in with his fists and finished him off by snapping his neck. He shuddered, shook his head, and moved away from the memory.

"Damn." Soldier grumbled.

The Engineer and Pyro strode in, trays laden with food. Scout had to resist grabbing food as soon as he saw it. It looked really good and he was _starving. _Hungry mercs dug into their food, eating and drinking everything the two brought with great speed. The animals were left to eat the scraps the RED team hadn't quite eaten properly. Bites, Bonker, and Sentry ate like kings.

As soon as the mad struggle for food had ceased and every last crumb had been devoured, the Engineer and Pyro cleared the table. The animals were collected and put in their proper places. Bites abandoned his tooth-hold at soldier's waist and snuggled up inside his jacket. Only his pointed muzzle and scrunched up, contented eyes were visible.

The RED team trooped to the teleporter in good spirits, boasting about how they were going to win the snowball fight. Soldier insisted it was a team-building exercise and nobody bothered to correct him. It was going to be fun, no matter what anyone called it. Once they all were in Sawmill, they stood more or less in a group. Engineer was left to divide the teams into what he considered a fair split, despite the fact that no matter how he divvied it up it would be five on four. He carefully sized each person up and came up with teams. He took some left-over fabric from one of his oversized pockets and tied blackish-green bands around his team's upper arm.

It was himself, Pyro, Demo, and Scout on one team; with Spy, Medic, Heavy, Soldier, and Sniper on the other. The round would go on until at least half the team said they'd had enough. The teams darted away from each other to begin building their forts; one outside RED's spawn, the other outside BLU's. If any of Blutarch's hires were around, they didn't show themselves.

They had five or so minutes, to be counted down by Engineer. The Medic's team (which he thought of as the RED team, with Engineer's as some kind of green team because of the hue of the bands on their upper arms) scrambled to build a proper fort. Most of them hadn't any experience, with the exception of Soldier. The result was a sloppy, crappy thing that would probably collapse with a few well-aimed hits. Mostly it was just he and Soldier building it. Sniper was busy getting into a good position, whereas Heavy and Spy were readying snowballs to be used as ammunition. A similar practice was happening with Engineer's team.

Presumably five minutes had passed, because a bright red flare whistled through the sky and into the forest. The people on the Medic's team looked up at it to see when it finally burst into a brilliant explosion of hot red light. Soldier gave their fort a once-over and nodded to Sniper, who rolled his eyes and knocked an arrow. It had a light bulb at its tip instead of an arrowhead. He fired the arrow and it flashed a brilliant gold in the sky before landing in the forest on the other side. The Soldier sounded a war call on his trumpet and the battle began.

Scout sprinted past the Heavy and Soldier, kicking up a shower of snow as he went. He didn't stop running when he scooped up snow from the ground and formed it into a lumpy sphere. The Scout vaulted over their fort with ease and tossed his snowball directly at the Medic's head. The result was a faceful of snow and muffled German cursing. The Scout landed awkwardly behind their fort and he realized that what was beneath his feet was ice, not snow. He skidded and slid away from the RED doctor in some sort of bizarre grace, letting out a yelp as he went. The Medic laughed in delight and got to his feet. The Scout regained his balance and turned to the Teutonic man and the both of them readied for combat. He and the Medic exchanged fire, the Medic's pre-made snowballs whizzing past the Scout's head as he dodged. It seemed as though the Medic would win until a squeaky bubble of a growl right next to his ear startled him.

The Scout's snowball splattered against his chest and the Bostonian gave a shout of triumph, racing over to pick up Sentry and destroy the Medic's pre-made ammunition and fort. He'd destroyed about half of it before the Medic flung a fistful of loose snow into the Scout's eyes. The Scout stumbled away, rubbing his face to rid it of the white flakes. He started to run away but was flung to the side by a well-aimed snowball in the side of the head. The Medic and Sniper exchanged a brief high-five, which was interrupted by a cloud of snow being slung into the air. The Medic gave a strangled shout of alarm before being thrown to the ground and half-buried. He floundered for a minute, only sinking himself deeper into the snow that'd settled. The Sniper let out a muffled curse and kneeled beside him, trying to dig him out.

Meanwhile, the Soldier and Heavy charged for their fort, pelting the Demo with snow on their merry way. They turned the corner from the control point, heading for the BLU spawn, and were shocked to find a modified sentry shooting perfectly shaped snowballs.

The Engineer waved and grinned as they ducked behind a wall, shooting each other nervous looks, wondering how to take the sentry down. A disoriented, shivering Demoman stumbled over to the Engineer and laid down behind the effectively crafted snow fort before getting up and charging back into the fight. Spy appeared behind the Demo moments later and stuffed a handful of snow down the back of the Scot's jacket.

The Demo gave a startled yelp. Spy kicked him to the ground and vanished into smoke, his snorting laughter giving him away as he dashed off. The Demo got back up and shook snow from his back. "Back-pokin' snake," He muttered to himself. Soldier, never one to show mercy, took advantage of the Demo's distraction and let loose a barrage of snow. Demo gave a muffled curse before grunting from the impact. Scout zipped by, letting two snowballs fly. They found their target at the Soldier and Heavy's faces. Sentry was nestled in his left arm, letting out squeaky yaps of happiness. Scout helped Demo up while the two members of the enemy team wiped snow from their faces. The Scout and Demo prepared another charge before a precisely thrown snowball slammed into the side of his head. He was knocked to the ground and Sniper gave a chuckle of amusement from where he perched on a building, waving to Scout's fallen form.

Spy decloaked in front of Soldier and Heavy, gathering them into a sport's huddle. "I'll take out the sentry," He said quietly, his eyes glittering with anticipation. "You get Dell and Pyro." He cloaked again and headed for the sentry, carefully stepping where others had already stepped to keep his footprints disguised. The other mercs could see the faint outline of a sapper in his translucent fingers.

The Engineer noticed him just before he placed the sapper. He tossed a handful of snow in the Spy's face and the Frenchman gave a muffled exclamation of surprise and anger, pawing at his eyes with one hand and slapping the sapper on the sentry with the other. The Engineer stared at the sentry helplessly as it was slowly destroyed; he hadn't brought a wrench.

"Dammit," He grumbled, turning to the Spy, one hand clenched around a tightly packed ball of snow. The Spy had already cleverly slipped away from both he and Pyro, and was nearly invisible now that he'd shaken the snow from himself.

The Soldier gave a ferocious scream and lunged for the Pyro, shoving snow into the Pyro's gasmask. The Pyro gave a cry of alarm, managing to not be carried backwards by the force of the Soldier's lunge but blinded by the snow in his visage. The Engineer gave an angry shout and slapped the Soldier hard, the ball of snow still in his hand. The Soldier was knocked to the ground by the blow and the Heavy interrupted by picking up the Engineer and tossing him into a giant snowdrift. The Engineer landed with a grunt and tried to rise after a few moments, only to find his legs caught in compressed snow. Struggling only sunk his boots deeper in. In the end, his solution was to yank his feet out, then pull his boots out with his hands.

Poor Pyro struggled to fend off both the Soldier and Heavy, but the Heavy repeated what he'd done with the Engineer. Heavy and Soldier grinned at each other in triumph and prepared for a high-five. At that moment, Scout and Demo came sprinting back to their fort, metaphorical guns a blazing. Snow splattered against clothing and flesh; shrieks of triumph and anger rang through the Sawmill. The Engineer and Pyro, who'd dug themselves free, joined the fray and for a moment it looked as though the Heavy and Soldier would lose.

Sniper and Medic came to their rescue, flanking the enemy team. They were swiftly forced back, hiding with the rest of their team behind the enemy fort. Spy decloaked and created havoc, throwing snow in either direction and slipping fistfuls of it down the back of both team's jackets and coats. Chaos reigned as both teams fought furiously to gain ground, snow flying and hitting, grunts and yelps splitting the air. Eventually the Engineer's team destroyed his well-built defense and advanced, forcing them back to the gates. The Spy interrupted by smoothly slipping thin sheets of ice down the Demo and Scout's backs simultaneously. The Medic's team reorganized and drove them back, surging forward and fighting furiously to push them towards BLU's base.

Scout was the first to say he'd had enough; the Medic had knocked him to the ground and placed a boot on his chest, pinning him, and had prepared a snowball to throw at the Bostonian's face. He was swiftly joined by Demo, who was surrounded by the Soldier and Heavy and didn't want to get brutally attacked again_. _Since half their team had given up, the other team had won.

The Medic's team celebrated loudly as they gathered their beaten enemy into a circle and herded them back to the base, taunting and bragging loudly. Their team got to go through the teleporter first and was the first to warm up back inside.

The Medic carefully checked the other mercs for frost bite or other dangerous inflictions brought on by cold. When he was confident there was nothing several blankets and hot chocolate couldn't fix, they group headed to the kitchen. The Engineer made the other mercs an adequately large amount of hot chocolate and sat beside his cold, damp coworkers. Everyone, including Spy, took a cup and drank. The Heavy took one large gulp and downed it all, then politely requested more. The Engineer quickly obliged him. Sentry, who was wiggling happily the Pyro's arms, gave a yip of desire and tried to get a taste from Pyro's cup. The Engineer sternly pushed him away, fully aware that chocolate had the potential to be deadly to dogs and cats.

"Back to decorations," The Medic said abruptly, looking up from his mug. "We need a tree; und the land outside of our current location is full of spruce trees. Pyro, you have an axe, vould you like to help me get vone?"

"I'll go as well!" Soldier volunteered loudly. "I'm going to get an _American _tree, not some Nazi crap. Christmas is an American holiday, after all." He stretched, nearly falling back in his chair, and drank the remainder of his cocoa. "See you in the break room, privates." He sauntered out.

"I will put up ze lights." The Spy said distantly, his stare vacant; perhaps he was thinking of just how to arrange them. He set down his mug, which he'd just emptied, and headed out.

"When ya'll get back, Pyro, I'll read ya somethin' Christmassy." The Engineer bustled around and collected emptied mugs. Pyro looked up from his drink excitedly, which was somehow half-empty, and offered it to the Engineer. The Engineer swigged the last of it. Pyro raced out afterwards, assumedly to the break room.

The Medic headed down to the infirmary to get Archimedes and to feed his other doves. Archimedes loved coming outside with him, and it was only fair since the Medic hadn't brought him outside in a while. He fed the birds and Archimedes flapped up to his shoulder, wingbeats steady and strong.

"Wait," The Spy's head started, voice somewhat muffled. "It's Christmas, non?"

The Medic blinked and turned to him. "Yes, it is."

"Take me outside." The BLU's voice was full of longing. "I haven't been outside in daylight for nearly seven years."

"Zat's all?" The Medic looked surprised. "I zought you vould ask me to kill you. You begged nonstop ze first year I had you."

"I'm fine where I am now. I've long since accepted it. I am a head. Nothing. I've been replaced by a clone of myself and I suspect if I die now I'll stay dead." He paused for a moment, almost thoughtfully. "You're looking much better than you were a month ago, docteur. The Yuletide season has done you well."

"Vell- yes, I suppose." The Medic paused. He hadn't even considered the reason for all the cheer in his heart. "If you vant to go outside I'll have to keep you hidden."

The Spy's head winced audibly, but the Medic chose to ignore it.

The Medic slung a backpack over his shoulder. Not the über backpack, a regular one. He carefully set the Spy's head in and cut a horizontal slash in it. The Medic adjusted the backpack's straps and stretched. He headed swiftly for the breakroom and was surprised to find it decorated and cleaned. The ancient fireplace in the corner had a blazing fire, fueled by wood from old crates. Warm flames swirled and the wood let out occasional snaps and crackles as it burned.

Spy was loudly commanding Sniper to move a string of lights up higher and the Sniper responded with something vulgar. The Spy tsked and wagged his finger disapprovingly.

The Soldier had cleared a space in one of the corners for the tree, and was grinning hugely under his helmet. The Pyro let out a tiny _"mph!"_ from where he sat and stopped poking the flames.

"Ready, mein friends?" The Medic asked the Pyro and Soldier promptly, shooting them both grins. Archimedes bobbed his head rhythmically on the Medic's shoulder and the three (plus the head) headed out to Sawmill to find the perfect tree.

**(I am so, so, so very sorry this took so long. Over a fortnight on this one thing! Also, for those of you who were patiently waiting for a Demo chapter… It's coming, I promise! The next one. Spoiler alert: There will be birds.)**


End file.
